


the wires got the best of him

by deadpoetscty



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Horror, Mostly Canon Compliant, Reader Insert, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Burn, So much angst, lots of swearing, softie ass michael! get ready, this is probably sinful, title from the neighbourhood - wires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2019-08-17 09:44:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 54,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16513943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadpoetscty/pseuds/deadpoetscty
Summary: On pretty little dangerous things, and how they can eat you up just as fast as the big scary ones.(The last update is a final goodbye to this fic.)





	1. You Bit Me

A heavy sigh, the closing of a door, and you began to count the little pleasures that ever so rarely came to grace your life. Stepping on muddy puddles. Sunlight falling gently on your cheeks; and the cold morning air punishing the skin the sun so desperately tried to protect. The rise and fall of your breath, creating small clouds amid the humidity surrounding you and everything near you. Thick fog. A collection of tiny fox feet scattering through the woods.

To be fair, you did not mind school. Ever since the day you learned how to read, an unquenchable thirst for knowledge took place. Book after book found its way into your tiny, chubby infant hands. Several years later, getting a novel for Christmas still made your eyes shine with utmost delight, your mouth watering for the words you were about to aggressively devour. No, learning was not the bad part of it all. The kids…that’s where you drew _the motherfucking line._

“Good morning, everyone. We’re going to the theatre for an assembly.” Announced Mrs. Marshall, your homeroom teacher, seconds after you had sat down. You huffed. Alright. We’ll go and cramp the fuck up in a tiny theatre to listen to all of the things we already know.

And you did not dislike the popular kids because they were popular and you were not. You hated them because of how putrid their intentions were. Fucking each other, breaking each other’s hearts, stepping on other people’s feelings with stiletto heels and no mercy whatsoever. So you simply pretended they were not everywhere around you. You smiled at them, of course, as your strict mother had taught you goddamn manners, but that’s about as far as anything would ever be.

So life went. Each day excruciatingly similar to the previous one. You felt a decay rain upon you and your fellow classmates as you had to memorize yet another chemistry formula that, quite frankly, you knew your brain would chop into oblivion stew after the exam. So…life went.

Until one day, routine came to a staggering halt. As you precariously balanced your binders and books on one hand while reaching into your bag for your phone, you felt the unfamiliarity of a shift in the atmosphere. The world dragged itself into downright gloom. Your messy limbs, disconcerted by the changing environment, dropped everything to the ground, and after a commotion of quickly gathering all of your belongings, your tired eyes finally found a resting place right upon his face.

And what a face that was. Sculpted features. Pure, soft skin that stretched perfectly around a beautiful pair of lips. Blue eyes as piercing as the morning sky after a night of tropical thunderstorms. His messy blonde curls fell in patterns you could only associate with a pitiful attempt at cutting his own hair. You could feel every spark of strange cosmic energy sent into your body flaring all at once, electrifying, breathtaking. He smiled, and you could swear that the whole of infinity was collectively falling into its rightful place. Who was this boy? Why did he feel the need to invade your previously boring personal space and fill you with an unspeakable desire to know...more? You hyperventilated for half a second before regaining composure.  _Stop being a fucking creep_ , your mind pinched itself, and you straightened yourself. The boy took half a step closer to you and it was all it took for that wonderful composure of yours to come crashing down into smithereens.

"Hey, uh..." he started, his voice as sweet as honey, and enticing as the call of the void. "I think y-"

And you were a deer in the headlights. A dumb, dumb deer pondering the logistics and practicalities of flinging itself into a chasm and never coming back into a world where it could be that incredibly awkward. So you decided to do something. You went ahead and embarrassed yourself a little more.

"I'm sorry! I have to be home quickly and my mom is waiting for me we need to run errands and I need to clean and I need to do chemistry homework I think!" You interrupted him, spitting out in a frenzied manner, struggling to catch a breath in between the words you had just practically _vomited_ at this impossibly attractive boy.

You smiled awkwardly at him, and started to shuffle rapidly towards the bus. As you settled your _stupid ass_ into a seat in the back, shaming yourself for being so embarrassing, your eyes drifted out the window and found the beautiful stranger sitting on a picnic table. Your heart leapt into a place that went just way beyond the ever expanding vastness of infinity. What you did not notice at first was that he was waving your phone at you.  

Your breath halted. "Oh my fucking g-"

You thought you could hear his genuine laughter as the bus took off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is You Bit Me by Emily's Army (which is now SWMRS.) Hope this wasn't too long. Get ready for some slow mother heckin burn, frends.


	2. Lose Your Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longer chapter. because I feel nice. and because if i'm gonna stay up until 4:30 writing about the goddamn antichrist, i'm not gonna go gently.

Nothing in the world could have prepared your poor soul to the chaos that was about to ensue.

That bus ride home was everything your nightmares were made of. And then some. The beautiful boy seeped into your every thought, no pause, no break, no truce. He infested your mind so fast you forgot about the phone you had forgotten, and that was the second damn time that pretty asshole had made you forget something.

“Fuck.” You sighed, and then noticed the slightly appalled third grader sitting right across from you. “Sorry.” It seemed like you were working hard on embarrassing yourself nonstop today.

The second you stepped off the bus, muttering a ‘thank you’ to the driver and scampering through your street, you finally got home, rushed upstairs, opened your laptop and tried messaging your phone.

_hey! im a dumbass. sorry for not even letting u talk_

It took no more than three seconds for the three gray dots to appear.

_Hi. You shouldn’t make your password ‘0000’. Just a thought._

Your cheeks burned crimson. Okay. Cute boy. But does he have to have an attitude? You furiously typed and deleted about five replies before settling for one.

_well i guess that worked out for me because now I can ask u to KINDLY let me have my phone back. where can i find u??_

_Woah there. Who says I’m holding your phone hostage without an interest?_

“Holy shit.” You huffed loudly. You were on the edge with this boy now.

_what the fuck????_

_;-)_

_listen. i just want my phone back. please_

_Only if we get to hang out after you get out of school tomorrow._

Your breath hitched in your throat so abruptly you forgot that breathing was, in fact, necessary for human survival and proper functioning. Before saying anything idiotic, you took some time to get up and do a full lap around your room, which included listing all of the pros and cons. _Okay. He’s cute. Scratch that, he’s an obfuscating kind of beautiful that can render even the most mentally balanced person completely stupid._ You stopped in front of the mirror for a moment, analyzing your appearance top to bottom, and twisting your nose. Yeah, I’m pretty, but I’m not fucking Aphrodite and I’m not sure if that would ever be enough for him…and he did ask me out, but as a fucking condition? For me to have my phone back? This is some straight white boy kind of bullsh-

Your wandering thoughts were interrupted by a chime coming from your laptop. Another text. For the umpteenth time today, your fragile excuse for a heart began to race inside your ribcages. Funny that they’re cages. Must be a hell of a monster in there.

_Look. I was homeschooled. I couldn’t help but feel jealous of you for having what I always wanted to have. I just want to talk to someone who could give me a glimpse of what it’s like to be normal. Please let me have this one, darling?_

The sight of the pet name ‘darling’ at the bottom of your screen sent your whole body into short-circuiting. You let out a strangled squeal that came from god knows where, and flopped onto the bed, eyes wide, mouth agape.

“What in the ever-loving fuck…” You sighed, a mixture of bewilderment and terror taking over.

Another chime. _Shit_. You had forgotten to reply.

_yeah i think we could do something about that. sounds like a deal to me, then. how can i make sure you’re not like…a rapist or a satanist lol_

_You have something against Satanists?_

A slightly stifled laughter rolled off your mouth. What a funny specimen this boy is, you thought to yourself.

_nah. scratch what i said about em. meet me after school at the park? i’ll bring a snack if u want_

_Sweet._

_sweet._

_Have a good night, darling._

This time you did not get to have any control of yourself, and just straight out screamed. Your sister called from downstairs.

"You okay up there?" 

"Yeah." You lied, resting against the wall, your hand flying to your forehead in exhilaration. "All good."

And the whole night after the exchange of messages between you two seemed like a blur and an eternity at the same time. You were only half present during dinner, which was promptly pointed out by both your mother, father, and sister.

“Thinking about boys?” Said your dad, a smirk forming on his face in between a spoonful of whatever the hell your mom had cooked up that evening.

“You know her. She’s probably thinking about the secret boyfriend that she hides from us.” Your sister blurted out, jokingly poking out her tongue at you. You chuckled. It then dawned upon you that there was some truth to what she had said, and the smiled wiped off your face.

Your mom laughed, your dad laughed, but your sister noticed the sudden change. You gulped. _Oh hell no, this is not gonna happen tonight._ You quickly excused yourself from the table before more unwanted questions came raining your way.

The next morning dragged on its feet like it was incapable of progressing like a normal damn day. Of course, this wasn’t unprompted. Every breathing second of yours was spent daydreaming or catering to your reliable anxiety. And to think that the boy did not even introduce himself to you! _This is so, so wrong. What if he actually is a bad person? I don’t know a single thing about him and here I am, all betty crockered up with a fucking batch of ginger cookies, ready to turn myself in to whatever awaits my dumb ass,_ your mind raced into utter and complete disarray.

As class finally came to an end, you picked up your thinks and rushed to the doors like the world was about to catch fire. Somehow, you could feel like it would. You walked to the park and took notice of the slow and steady decay of the maple leaves on the way. Summer was already becoming fall. It seemed only fair that you were the one on the brink of falling too. How pitiful. An entire lifetime of neglecting the pursue of a love interest outside of your books, and now you were ready to hand yourself into a pretty stranger just because your hormones couldn’t take a hint.

“It’s only fair that you brought those.” A familiar captivating voice dripped into your ears like pure silk, waking you up to the real world. You had become so lost in thought that you had walked into the park and then, apparently, walked right past him.

And there he stood, in all his teenage glory, his stupidcrazymad blue eyes scanning you, making you feel so small and vulnerable. You hadn’t noticed how fast flies fall into webs until now.

“Sorry?” You muttered, still somewhat entranced by your previous train of thought. “Oh, the cookies.” He chuckled, and you felt warmth spread into you like the heavens were pouring honey into your body. “Don’t flatter yourself, pretty boy. I made these because I like them.”

He smiled again. Damn you, wonderful not-so-strange stranger, and your perfect teeth. How are they so white? You could swear he was laughing at what you said, which was, of course, impossible. You didn’t say it out loud.

“Okay. I won’t let my pride get in the way of your homemade goods. This seems like a fair trade to me. Phone for cookies?” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out your phone. You took it, curiosity seeping into your thoughts and bringing out childlike excitement as you thought about asking him a hundred questions. As your hand pulled back, your fingers brushed against his so softly one could have not noticed it, but you did. And so did he.

He smiled. Your heart ached in desperation.

“What’s your name? We forgot about that part, it seems.” You laughed, and he did too.

“It’s Michael. Yours?” You introduced yourself, longing for so much more information about him that you nearly pulled out a form for him to fill out and satisfy your undying curiosity. “So tell me, dear, what is it like to live among other people our age?” He asked as you both sat down on a bench under a gazebo you had found when you were nine years old and exploring the park, away from your family. You failed to notice how strange it was that you both had stumbled upon the exact secluded location that you had discovered years ago.

“It’s horrible. These kids are lost, and don’t fool yourself, so am I, but at least I’m not trying to make everyone else miserable. I have a few friends but they don’t really get me.” You spat out, letting him in to more things than my own parents knew about you.

“I feel that way most of the time, too.” Michael sighed, longing for something you couldn’t exactly pick up on. He was a boy so full of mysteries. You wanted to unravel them all.

At the exact moment your last thought clouded your mind, Michael’s head suddenly snapped in your direction as if you had said it out loud. This couldn’t be happening twice. Was he…hearing your thoughts? Michael shook his head slightly, looking into the distant pond once more.

“What did you mean when you asked if I was a Satanist?” He suddenly blurted out, his voice falling into a faster pace than the one he had been using with you so far.

“Well, are you?” You chuckled, furrowing your brows. “My mom is.” Michael answered, dryly. “But don’t worry about it. Most people have the same reaction as you did. I was expecting it.” He sounded disappointed. You frowned.

“I don’t want to be most people.” You said, suddenly, the words escaping your mouth too fast for your late attempt at stopping them. That seemed to startle him.

“No?” Michael’s mouth curved upwards until his smirk blew into a full smile. “Good. I don’t think we’re meant to be like the rest of them.”

The mention of a ‘we’ agitated every corner of your being into a slight frenzy.

“So…you’re not a follower of your mother’s beliefs?” The thought of him worshipping something deemed to be so evil and cruel planted a seed into your brain. What if he is actually a bad person? What if he wants to do something...to me?

“I honestly don’t know what to believe. Even though I am told that I should…sometimes I feel like I wouldn’t be on the right path.” Michael confessed, seemingly saying these words out loud for the first time. He almost looked…relieved. “What they ask of me…some of it is a little overwhelming. I mean, they think I am supposed to be the one to bring on the apocalypse.” He laughed dejectedly. Your face contorted itself out of confusion. What was he implying?

“But you don’t believe that, do you?” A half chuckle, half choked out whisper came out. Your heartbeat had picked up its pace.

“I don’t know. They can be very convincing sometimes.” Michael laughed, and this time he sounded like he simply could not believe his own words. “I mean, you’d have to give them the benefit of doubt. They have very compelling arguments.”

“Okay. So a bunch of Satanists, including your mother, have told you you’re the literal fucking Antichrist…and you feel inclined to believe them?” You laughed out, absentmindedly placing a shameless hand on Michael’s knee.

Whether or not this conversation was going somewhere much more obscure than you had initially thought, you stopped all of your suspicions and theories to pay attention to the crucial second during which Michael seemed to blush at your hand resting on his knee. Though it was an incredibly straightforward thing to do, you didn’t retreat. Your hand remained there. You levelled your eyes with his, and you both stared into each other’s irises. He slowly moved until his hand reached yours. Your fingers brushed for a second before he carefully enveloped your fingers with his.

“Such soft hands you’ve got there, master chef.” Michael half panted out, half whispered. Your soft gasp melted into words.

“Made to be held.” Another remark that escaped your lips like it was being chased. _Perhaps it is_ , you thought. By your own common sense.

“You’re not scared of the devil?” Michael’s pupils had blown out until his eyes looked nearly black. Instead of fear, you felt desire. All kinds of it. Before you were even able to tap into those sinful feelings, your mind was already coming up with another answer to match his last. A challenge like no other taking control of all your wits, pulling like wires.

“Not if you’re him.” You hummed, eyes glued to his pink lips. His grip on your hand tightened. A battle for air seemed to slowly take place as you began to feel like the oxygen around you had been drained. Like it had been taken by him. Like he enjoyed to watch you beg for it. And somehow, you did not protest it; instead, as prudence and logic begged you to stop, you shut out the voices of reason behind a door, and let his vice-like grip on your attention bring you back to the heresy seizing both of you.

“Darling.” Michael appeared to be letting his eyes linger a moment too long on your lips as well. Your chest heaved like a thousand gentle earthquakes rattled inside you; the beast guarded by your ribcages becoming wilder by the second. You feared your body wouldn’t be able to contain it if he decided to come any closer to you. “You’re meddling with something much scarier than you think.”

“They say curiosity and fear go hand in hand. I think they're right, don’t you agree?” You retorted softly, a wicked smile forming on your face. You were never the one to answer like that, so upfront, so aggressive. But Michael had something about his aura that gave off something different. Violence. Glory walking alongside gore. A splatter of disorder sprawling out from a place you never knew existed within you. You ruled out all of the cons. 

“You’re playing with fire here.” He breathed out, eyes never leaving yours. It wasn't so much as a threat. His words rang out like a warning bell. Like the sirens rang out before the bombs fell.

You noticed how differently things had seemed when you first saw him, and at the same time, you now knew they really weren’t. That idea of something so strange, so exciting, so dangerous…it had always been there. Inside those viciously blue eyes.

You stared into the very eye of the storm. “I’ve never been afraid of getting burned.” Michael's formerly satisfied smile grew into a wicked one. Your soul was being ravaged like nothing had ever been in the history of the universe, and there you were, letting him take it. This boy you didn't even know for more than a day. Something pulled in your blood. An ancient call. Something, like Michael had said, so much bigger and scarier. Something unholy.

This tug-of-war felt like it could go on for hours. But then, Michael let go of your hand, and it caused such a strong sensation of loss and abandonment that you began to wonder if any of this was actually real.

“It is.” Michael said. He winked at you, and politely got up from the bench, leaving your side completely.

Your breath caught itself in your throat, refusing to leave, in fear of being brutal attacked by his own. “Pardon me?”

“All of it.” Michael then brought your hand to his lips, and they lingered on your knuckles for a few seconds before he abruptly pulled away from you, and his touch left a trail of fiery pins and needles sticking under the surface of your skin, bruising, burning, scarring. You loved it. “ _All of it_ is real, darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lose Your Soul, by Dead Man's Bones.  
> if you wanna chat with this sinful soul, my tumblr is @tillthelastbelltolls
> 
> feedback is appreciated!!!!!!!


	3. Biting Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go, a slightly boring chapter (you know what this precedes WINK WONK).  
> in which michael reveals himself to be an absolute drama queen, and also lowkey a softie.  
> also, i gotta add: i do not have a beta, and english is not my first language, so please feel free to point out any inaccuracies in the comments or via private message (find me on tumblr @tillthelastbelltolls)!!!

_“It’s all real.”_

 

Michael’s words echoed in your mind in a particularly turbulent manner. They appeared from thin air and lifted their veil to whisper in your ear, tell you that you should, in fact, be afraid. Those grating, metallic syllables crumbled and reattached themselves only to reveal something you already knew: _Michael was dangerous._

 

After he said those words to you, he spun around on his feet and, as gracefully as his long legs permitted, bolted away from you. You, however, sat on the exact same spot you had been when you were told the entirety of your reality was nothing but a sardonic illusion. Years of believing something concrete, something less magical and more plausible, and for what? You felt abandoned by your faith – or, frankly, the lack of such.

 

Michael had been gone for almost twenty minutes when you ultimately regained control of your mind and body. You stood up, staring completely absentmindedly at the untouched cookies. How foolish could it be that you had thought he would be anything close to what your imagination had sculpted? You caught a glimpse of the skin on your forearm: goosebumps had caused every hair on your body to stand.

 

His absence made you shrink. Where there once was warmth directly beside you, now lacked it altogether; it felt too strange to you that a man so outlandish could incite in you so much infatuation in such a short period of time. You felt like you hadn’t been actually living until your eyes were met with the pure, unbridled fire of his own. And now that he had walked away, you were, for lack of a more descriptive word, baffled. What would the next step be, now that your formerly fully paved road had been obliterated by a mysterious pair of alluring lips, whispering obscenities into your yearning ears? Would reason ever return to your desperate mind?

 

You decided to walk. Where to, unclear. What for, unknown. But your confusion was beginning to feel claustrophobic, and you needed to move. Upon taking your first step, you started paying attention to the path Michael had taken on his way out. You looked for a trail, but there was absolutely nothing; it was like no human being other than you had ever entered this area. This, of course, only added to the feverish turmoil that slowly etched itself into your brain. _Who the fuck is this boy?_

 

So you went home, clouded with way too many thoughts for an ordinary mind that only knew books and school notes and fiction. Soon after you arrived at your doorstep, you grabbed a glass of water. Whether you were about to drink it or stare solemnly at the bubbles dispersing along the surface, that was still a mystery. You reached for your dear phone and unlocked it, finding the Contacts app still open. Your brows knitted together as a soft humming sound escaped your throat.

“Did he…” you started, while you scrolled through your contacts. You soon found the answer. “He sure did.”

 

And there it was. A new name. And Michael’s number. It wouldn’t hurt to just try, right? Your finger hovered hesitantly over the ‘call’ option. And before sanity could take control, you found yourself waiting for him to pick up.

 

And so he did. “That was fast.” Michael’s enthralling voice rouse the almost dim fire in your stomach. Heat pooled inside every crevice. You damned yourself and lack of fucking decorum repeatedly as you searched for an appropriate answer.

 

“You don’t seem like the kind to be kept waiting.” You rapidly spit through an unrestrained exhale. This is the behaviour of a dull little schoolgirl, you thought. But to hell with decency. If I’m about to have a civil conversation with the _fucking_ _devil_ , I’m not going to think twice about consequences.

 

“You’re right. I’m not.” Michael had an unrelenting grasp on your attention again; you had to remind yourself that he was dangerous. Maybe thinking twice wouldn’t be too bad. “Oh, my dear, you don’t need to be scared of me. I would never dream of hurting you. Only the best for you, darling.”

 

Your breathing became ragged. You wished for proximity so he could see what he was doing to you: slowly and steadily becoming erratic, unstable. Becoming… _his_.

 

At that exact moment, you heard a smile crinkle into shape on the other side of the line. Warmth flooded your body, sending you into pure bliss. His every movement, word, or decision drove you into madness: no feeling left untouched. Michael picked up on everything you felt, and then methodically magnified each one of them tenfold. As a result, you were left in a chaotic mess.

 

“You should come over.” Michael suggests, and it was so tempting; but you weren’t stupid. You knew what boys your age wanted. The carnal desires of the flesh sing louder than prudence. But you unexpectedly found yourself more than inclined to give into this newfound lust, if he asked you to. The mere thought of entangling yourself with him brought an unfamiliarity to the bottom of your stomach, and right there, heat began to build. The image of a fly becoming trapped to a spider's web resurfaced.

 

 _Build me cathedrals. Tear my kingdom to ashes._ “Okay.” You were willingly corrupting yourself for him; the sin of all sins. It felt vulgar. It felt perilous. It felt…so overwhelmingly right.

 

You could hear him smile through the phone, and your brain did not fail to fabricate the exact image of his mouth curving upwards right in front of you. And this, obviously, made your knees weak. “I’ll text you the address, is that cool?”

 

Michael’s tone, so youthful, was enough to strike a chord within you. How come something so beautiful and tender had to be, according to his own words, the bringer of so much death, so much hurt? Before you learned about his supposed destiny, nothing about his demeanour could have indicated that he was menacing. In a way, you still could not see it – either that, or you were in complete and absolute denial of what he had said earlier. 

 

“Yeah. Cool. It’s all cool.” You managed to stutter. “Um…when?” You giggled, and lived to regret it.  _Geez. Calm down._

 

“If I had the chance to see you right now, I’d take you without a shadow of doubt.” Michael quickly replied. If you could scream, you would have, but once again oxygen seemed foreign. You thought about his word choice: maybe he meant to say 'take it'? Either way, you would be ever so happy to hand all of yourself to him.

 

You chuckled, albeit still stunned, and turned it back around. He didn't need to know about the eagerness that sprung from that small pool that had began to form in the bottom of your belly. “Then why did you leave me at the park like that?”

 

“I…” Michael paused. Two seconds of silence followed by a sigh told you that maybe this was a subject left intact. “I remembered my mom wanted me at home so she could give me a few chores for the week, since she’s leaving.”

 

The antichrist has chores for the week. This all seemed so absurd that you couldn’t help but laugh wholeheartedly. Any concern you could have come up with before was now shattering because it felt like Michael was absolutely shitting you. You could even hear him laugh too, before he spoke again.

 

“I’m serious. Even the devil must make his bed every now and then. But please, come here. I know this is all strange and it’s happening fast, yeah, to me as well…it’s just…” Michael hesitated. You heard a slightly strangled breath. “Well there’s no proper way to put it, really. I feel like anything I say will sound foolish.”

 

You stifled a wheeze. “Go on.”

 

Michael sighed. “You’re radiant. And I am so helplessly attracted to you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Biting Down, by Lorde.  
> feedback is appreciated!!


	4. Kiwi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ have fun, you filthy creatures.

You were standing in front of his door in what felt like seconds. There was no plausible way in _fucking hell_ you could have made it there so fast, yet there you were. Waiting for the most ironically angelic creature in all of history to open the door to his home. Within ten seconds, you heard a commotion inside the house, and a Michael that only wore black jeans and a white shirt showed up, eyes glowing with childlike excitement. You took a full minute to examine how irresistible he looked clad in such ordinary clothing: a small part of you almost hoped he would be wearing a cloak.

“Is it bad that I was counting the seconds to be able to talk to you again?” He said, reaching out his hand to take yours and bring you into this house. You gladly accepted his offer, letting your hand linger on his calloused palm. Every chance of physical contact _needed_ to be taken, thank you very much. “So, this is my house. Nothing too abnormal. Your regular Satanic upside down crosses and altars, not a lot to see.” Michael explained, and your eyes widened in shock as you meticulously studied the rooms he showed you. There were, as he had mentioned, several crosses pinned to the wall, except they had all been turned upside down. Their fireplace served as an altar, and so did several other corners of the living room; black and red candles covered every surface available, along with a dark book, an altar dagger, – and at the sight of this, you shivered – and a vial containing pitch black liquid that you simply did not want to know more about. This seemed to repeat itself in nearly every room, you noted. 

“This looks like a museum.” You pointed out, looking into a closet that contained several trinkets and objects that appeared to belong to a hardworking collector. You spotted a small statue of a crow sitting upon a human skull. You chuckled, thinking about your Edgar Allan Poe books and how the man would have enjoyed the décor choice in this house.

And then, you were both in front of his room. You gulped only slightly audibly, but it could have been a silent thought and Michael still would have picked up on it, so fighting your reactions was completely useless. Your hand was still clasped firmly around his, and you could feel your palms begin to sweat.

“I…” You hesitated; you were both thrilled and scared of what was about to happen.

“I’m not your regular teenager who’s going to bring a girl this beautiful into his room with the sole purpose of getting into her pants.” Michael blurted out, and your cheeks burned. _Well, maybe not the sole purpose, but I sure do hope it's at least purpose number two._ He seemed somewhat offended that this was the standard procedure. “I want your company.” And right there you saw a boy with so much responsibility shoved into his shoulders that he had started to break; and a section of your heart broke for him in return. His eyes looked tired. You wanted him to feel…whatever good things you could bring into his complicated life. To have companionship; and you were especially glad that he had chosen you as the one to provide that.

“Hey.” You took the initiative to lead him to his own bed, and carefully sat him down. “Your intentions aren’t corrupted. I believe you.” You sat on the opposite side of the bed. “I know you just want to talk, but I only need to ask you what you meant when you said you were attracted to me.”

Michael’s previously tense shoulders seemed to relax. He shook his head and smiled. “I meant that there’s a pull. And don’t even try to deny it, I know you feel it too. Something so much bigger than us, something old. Like it’s been written down centuries ago, you know. You and I.” He sounded as if all of what he was telling you was a secret best kept buried. “I know that a lot happened in my life before I first saw you, but I promise you I’m not lying when I say can’t remember any of it.” Michael panted out the last bit, like the words were impatient and couldn’t wait inside his brain. “I can remember pain. Causing hurt. I can remember darker things that I don’t want to scare you with…”

You frowned. “You can tell me. I want to know.” You reached for his hand, but he retreated. Your face twisted into a frown. “Why are y-“

“Can we just lie down?” Michael interrupted your protest. “I like talking while looking at the ceiling. It means that I don’t have to stare into your eyes.” He confessed.

You laughed incredulously. “What? You’re scared of making eye contact?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m just an anxious person, alright? Just because the title of ‘bringer of the apocalypse’ was slapped on my crib the day I was born, it doesn’t mean that I’m not afraid of anything.” Michael revealed, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his shirt. That made the fabric ride up, exposing more skin than he had probably intended to. Your breath caught in your throat, and some kind of primal fire seemed to have started in your veins.

“So, let me see if I got this right: devil boy freaks out around girls?” You teased him, unashamedly lying down on his bed and watching as he followed you.

At first, Michael looked rather offended; then, he broke out into laughter. His laugh so sincere and contagious that you couldn’t help but join him. “You’re something else, darling.” His eyes crinkled, his face beaming with delight.  
  
You could swear your skin was made of pure electricity as Michael lazily traced the tip of his fingers up and down your arm. His touch was light, but neither of you could deny the power of it; nor deny how euphoric it felt to be touched like this. So, even though you had contradictory thoughts permeating your mind, you closed your eyes, and let him touch you.  
  
“Wish I could say the same, but you look pretty ordinary to me.” You poked your tongue out at him, scrunching your face. _As ordinary as a blizzard in the middle of May. As ordinary as the way my heart pounds against my chest like a crazed beast, fighting to be free. I half expect it to escape, but then again, when you laugh I forget to care._ __  
  
You expected him to retort. To say something, anything. Instead, his laugh faded into a content smile and his eyes found yours. You couldn’t exactly tell what the look on his face meant, but the closest thing to it was adoration. When you smiled back at him, he blushed, and tried to look away, but his eyes fell upon your lips.  
  
He inhaled sharply. “I’ve done some pretty messed up things in my life. I’ve caused more hurt than I’ll ever be able to admit, and all of that is terrifying, but I can’t stop thinking about how you make it all disappear.” Michael’s hand found its way up to your cheek, and his index finger traced a small pattern on your skin. It made your stomach drop an entire flight of stairs. You sighed into his touch, your eyes closing temporarily. _How could this possibly feel so fucking new, yet at the same time so familiar, so normal?_ __  
  
“Remember when you told me I was playing with fire?” You asked, your own hand following his example and stopping right at the spot his jawline met his ear. You gently caressed his face, feeling every inch of skin heat up under your touch. Michael nodded, eyes stuck on yours, watching your every thought through your irises. “I’m not scared of you because I myself am surrounded by flames.”  
  
His pupils dilated as your thumb found a resting place upon his lower lip. You traced the skin there, memorizing the way his breathing became labored when you touched him. You liked the idea that someone who could eliminate you from this planet with the snap of a finger was so vulnerable when intimacy came to knock on his door.  
  
“I wouldn’t mind watching the world burn by your side.” Michael whispered, warm air reaching your face along with a scent of peppermint you hadn’t noticed before. It brought back every good sensation you had ever felt in your life. “But until we get there, I would be more than happy if we could just fall asleep like this.” He continued, pressing a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand. “I can feel myself already becoming addicted to your warmth, darling.”  
  
You smiled. “Then you can have all of it.” You propped yourself up until your head was resting in the crook of his neck. You breathed out slowly, and felt Michael shiver beneath your touch. You pressed a kiss to his neck, and he hummed, satisfaction spreading through the both of you, covering every inch, every limb.  
  
He reached around you to bring you closer, and you wrapped your arm around his chest. “Isn’t this what lovers do?” You asked, sleep arriving and making your eyelids heavy.  
  
Michael kissed your forehead, and pulled the blankets up to your chins. His voice was low and soft. “Maybe. But we have the whole of eternity to figure it out.”  
  
And just like that, you were both out.  
  
It was getting dark out when you found yourself awake, in a bed that wasn’t yours. You took mental notes on the way it felt to be held while you slept, the way his mattress ever so slightly creaked under new weight, the way his eyelashes fluttered every now and then as his chest would rise and fall. You didn’t want to wake him up; he looked too peaceful to be disturbed. So you chose to simply watch.  
  
And right there, in that strange house, on a strange bed, under strange circumstances, you realized there was nothing that you could ever want more than that. But something inside you had been changing. In a matter of days, your soul had found his soul and both chose to intertwine into colours that didn’t even exist. You pondered if this new feeling was what your books had described love as.  
  
“I won’t be too mad if you just tell me you love me, you know.” Michael mumbled groggily, rubbing his eyes as a small chuckle erupted from his chest.  
  
You felt heat rising to your cheeks. “Michael. I met you a day ago.” You whispered, mind racing. “Also, can you please stop breaking into my head?”  
  
“I’m sorry.” Michael brought himself closer to you in order to nuzzle your hair. “You just have a really loud mind. It’s kind of hard not to pay attention.”  
  
“Okay, so you’re saying that this whole ‘mind reading’ situation is because you’re, uh, the devil?” You frowned.  
  
“I think so. I mean, in all honesty, I’d rather not know when a girl passes me in the street and thinks about calling me ‘daddy’ in bed, but it’s still there. I can’t stop it.” He replied, and you couldn’t help but snort at his uncomfortableness with popular culture. Michael furrowed his brows. “What? Do you like to call other men your father when you’re hav-“  
  
“Oh, shut up. You don’t understand it, but I think it’s better that way.” You laughed, and he did too. “To be fair, it would probably completely end your faith in humanity.”  
  
“I’m not supposed to have any.” Michael retorted, lightly flicking your cheek, his tone reeking of attitude.

  
“Alright there, horny boy.” You decided to play his game. If you were anything in this world, you had been told it was that you were full of attitude.  
  
Michael’s face twisted with disgust. “I don’t like that n-“ He tried to protest but you placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. He huffed, eyes rolling.  
  
“What I was about to say was, what else can you do with your evil powers?” You knew you were challenging someone - or something - that was so much more powerful than you, but you simply couldn’t resist the temptation to tease him.  
  
“Well, for starters...” Michael seemed to accept your invitation to show off. You saw something flicker in his icy blue eyes, a rogue, devilish flame. It was ready to set everything inside you ablaze. “I can disappear.”  
  
And just like he had at the park earlier, Michael vanished. You found yourself wrapping your arms around nothing but a messy bundle of sheets. You were so deeply startled you clumsily got off the bed and stood up. The hairs at the back of your neck did, too.  
  
“Holy shit.” You panted, eyes widening.  
  
“What? I’m right here.” Came a voice from the place right behind you, and you turned around to discover Michael’s face mere inches from yours. You could feel his breath on your lips, and that agonizing pull in your belly began to grow once more. “See something you like?” He teased, knowing all too well how difficult it would be for your heart to recover from this.  
  
“Am I that obvious?” You whispered, eyes fluttering shut with his increasing proximity. Michael’s hand wrapped around the spot on your waist that sent a million shivers up and down your spine. Oh, how you wanted him to just get this over with and press his mouth to yours.  
  
“Yes. You are.” Michael hissed, playfully squeezing your waist. “But this is not all I can do.” He whispered, before the world came crashing at your feet.   
  
Suddenly you were turned around by his firm hands on your shoulders to see every single object in his room hovering several inches above the floor. He took one of your hands to walk you around the room, letting you take in the impossibility of what was happening all around you. You giggled, feeling rather silly. Was this all a dream?

“Not a dream. I can guarantee this is all real.” Michael stood behind you, whispering in your ear. “There’s a lot that I can do that would probably shock you, but I only want to show you one right now.” He continued, turning you back around.

You felt a strong pull on all of your limbs and within seconds, found yourself pressed up against the wall, and Michael standing right in front of you. _Oh, please. How much can you still tempt me until I’m entirely made of sin?,_ you thought, heart racing at how close he was, how warm his body felt next to yours, and how much desire you were feeling.

“Apparently not much.” Michael whispered directly into your lips, eyes hooded, and in them you saw genuine lust. You were certain your own eyes looked the same.

“Seems like I can’t keep any secrets around you, can I?” Your chest heaved. Michael grinned, shaking his head. “What about you? Anything in particular you’d like to tell me?”

One of his hands rested on your waist, the other on the small of your back, pulling you even closer. You didn’t think it was possible. Your body was now touching his in every spot, and you had been driven completely mad with pure _want_.

“Would you like to hear it or feel it?” Michael teased. You just gasped at his shamelessness. _Please_. “Feel it? I can hear your thoughts, darling.” He was so close now you felt his lips lightly brush against yours; smooth, warm, sweet. You hadn’t even had your first sip of this cup so full of lust and you could already deem yourself an addict. _Michael, please._ “We’re begging now, are we? What is it that you want me to do?”

You watched in a mixture of awe and satisfaction as the malicious grin was wiped off of his face when you grabbed his chin and pulled him closer to you. “Too much talking, not a lot of doing.”

And just like that, you were pressing your lips to his, catching both of you completely off guard.

Though nothing on the planet could have possibly prepared you for the guttural moan that escaped his throat and poured into your mouth as you parted your lips and met his tongue with your own. You broke apart for a second just to admire your masterpiece: Michael was now wild, hair messy from the trail your hands had taken without your knowledge. You kissed him again, harder, and he responded with equal enthusiasm. He only pulled back a few times to whisper into your lips.

“Didn’t know – I could possibly want someone – this bad.” His hands hiked up your sweater, finding a path to roam free on the small of your back. “You taste like heaven – and I don’t even believe in it.” Your knees wobbled at his words, but his careful and steady grip on you stopped you from losing balance. Michael took a turn onto your jawline, nibbling the skin there and making you whimper. You were in divine bliss, although nothing about this was holy. In fact, it was downright sinful. _Maybe the fly likes to have the knowledge that it's about to be devoured._ Michael's lips returned to yours, seemingly too eager to be able to taste you again. You only breathed when he gave you the smallest cue, and your lungs were practically blazing, but you didn't mind. You wanted to burn, so long as he was the one to light the match.

Just as the kiss was beginning to grow more passionate, the loud ringing of your phone interrupted the moment. You both stood there for a few seconds, panting, in a mixture of shock and excitement. You breathed in sharply as he picked it up from his bedside table and handed it to you. 

“It’s your mother.” Michael mumbled, disappointed but still shaken to his very core by your kisses. You answered the phone.

“Hey there, dear. Dinner’s been ready for a while now and we’re just waiting for you.” Your mom’s tone was indecipherable. You reached out for Michael’s hand and took it, circling the back of it with your thumb. “Thanks for texting me about staying at Amy’s late, though. Just come home as quickly as possible because we’re all starving.”

You winked at a very distraught Michael. He frowned, squeezing your hand with his. “Okay. Be there in ten.” You hung up, shoving your phone in your back pocket. “I’m sorry.”

“You really have to go?” He pouted, a frustration so genuine you even considered staying. However, you knew you couldn't. As extraordinary as the circumstances _and_ the boy were, you were still pretty ordinary, and still had a strict family to please and obey.

“Yes, pretty boy. I do.” You replied, pulling him closer to you, and into an embrace. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

As he led you downstairs and out his door, the atmosphere seemed to become gloomy. You just knew this was his doing, but you needed to go before your mother decided to never let you out again. 

“Come back tomorrow.” Michael seemed to be imploring at this point.

You smiled, and closed the distance for another kiss. They say the second is never as good as the first, but fuck, was that wrong. The fire from before only seemed to reignite in you. He hummed contentedly as his hand cupped your cheek, knowing how much you enjoyed the feeling. But you had to go.

“I’ll come back. Promise.” You said, and he took your hand to his lips. You felt that familiar heat spreading on the back of it, like it did back in the park, but didn't pay attention to it this time. It had already started to feel normal.

As you were walking away, with a wide smile printed permanently on your cheeks, you lifted your hand only to find out that, this time, he had actually left a mark. You instantly knew no other person on Earth could have done that. And with that knowledge, came another: he had meant to do that. He had meant to send you a reminder.

_He had meant that you belonged to him._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song is Kiwi, by Harry Styles. the lyrics don't relate but the vibe....oh, the vibe....  
> as usual, a reminder that i am very open to criticism and appreciate any kind of feedback! you can comment here or find me on tumblr @tillthelastbelltolls


	5. Who Are You, Really?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this got dark very fast. (edit: a kind reader reminded me that i had written 'margaret' instead of 'miriam', and it's been corrected!)

_Wait a second. So you lied to your mom._

Upon receiving his text, you snorted.  _This boy can be a little dumb when he wants to_. You straightened the sheets on your bed, getting ready to lie down.

_yea i did. why??_

_I like to know that even you are a little bit evil. Just like me._

You rolled your eyes, toothbrush in hand. That was such a reach. How could you even be compared to the devil?

_michael you’re the antichrist_

_And you’re a sinner. It’s in the Bible, you know? “Honor thy father and mother”, or some bullshit like that._

You couldn’t contain a laugh. What on Earth had you gotten yourself into? A religiously challenged moron with a penchant for being a smartass?

 _S i n n e r_.

_i got it the first time, ASSHOLE_

_Watch your FUCKING language, darling._

You found this exchange deeply entertaining. It was somewhat delightful to have the world’s absolute scariest sending you flirty texts and teasing your heart out. And though you wished you could spend the whole night talking to him, a powerful yawn drew tears from the corners of your eyes.

_gonna hit the hay. see u tomorrow horny boy_

_First of all, you stop with that shit. Second of all, goodnight, darling. Can’t wait to see you again._  

Your face stretched into a smile so big your cheeks started to hurt. That boy was most definitely going to be the end of you. Literally and figuratively. The thing was, you just didn’t seem to care.

A few moments later you had successfully tucked yourself in for the night. And for the first time in a while, you managed to not lose your shit. You took that as a chance to absolutely dissect every single thing that had happened during the past twenty-four hours.

 _I leave my phone behind with a stranger. Stranger was hot as hell_. You chuckled at the irony. _Stranger also has the hots for me. I bake him cookies - the fucker DOES NOT eat them. Yes, that’s important. He vanishes after casually telling me that, you know, he’s Satan. As one does. He invites me over, we nap, then make out._

At the memory of your heated encounter, you shivered with pleasure. Oh, dear, what a kiss. You remembered the devilish look in his eyes when you took control, and the way he moaned at the feeling of your tongue parting his lips. It abruptly hit you that the sound had reverberated through the whole room and you seemed to only then realize the magnitude of his reaction; you had been too caught up in the moment to notice. The coil in your belly tightened, squeezing uncontrollably.  _Goddamn it_.

You thought about the way everything had happened so fast. And then remembered what he said about you and him having been written down in history ages ago. It soothed your aching mind. Maybe this was going at a faster pace than the normal, but it felt so inexplicably right. 

Yes, you were aware of how dangerous the whole situation was. Alas, the boy was supposed to deliver the Armageddon to the world’s doorstep. But still, you found yourself willing to give up all of your morals and beliefs if only that meant you could be by his side.

The lust in your body subsided as another emotion took over: tenderness began to spread like a light that finds its way in through the cracks. You trembled, knowing full well what was about to follow. You had feared the day you would finally give into the cliché of being swept off your fucking feet...but now that it was actually happening, it didn’t seem so bad. You sighed deeply, eyelids heavy as the setting sun, and relaxed into the certainty that he was just as smitten.

_“I wouldn’t be too mad if you said you love me.”_

Michael’s words lulled you into a serene sleep.

 

You awoke to the sound of your phone obnoxiously vibrating against your nightstand. You reached for it, ready to hang up, when you realized it was Michael calling you. Startled, you answered, heart beating a hundred miles per minute.

“Michael, are you okay?” Your voice came out in a hoarse mumble.

“Something happened.” His voice was strangled as if he had been crying, and you felt all of your limbs go numb for a second. Fuck. “Something bad.”

You shot up, forgetting how dizzy you could get from moving abruptly like that. When your vision went dark for a few moments, you loudly cursed your iron deficiency, and then rushed to put proper clothes on. “I’m coming to see you.” You panted, anxiety shooting through like a drug.

“No, please, don’t.” Michael pleaded, and you heard him sniff. “You don’t want to see this.”

Your stomach sank. A few scenarios played in your head, all of them equally horrible, and you decided to shut that part of your brain out. “I don’t care. Listen, stay where you are, and don’t do anything. I’ll be there in a bit.” You heard him begin to protest, but then you hung up and stood there in the darkness, completely silent. You were not the kind of girl to just sneak out through the window in the middle of the night, but then again, nothing that was going on seemed to follow a concrete storyline. So you pulled the window up, climbed out, then pulled it back down, and descended with the help of a conveniently nearby tree, safely making it to the street. And then you shot out into the night.

The streets were empty with the exception of a few neighborhood cats wandering about, and this reminded you of one particular Halloween when you were nine: distraught at the news that the boys that lived in that area had been torturing and abusing the street cats, you decided to bring every single one of them into your room. It was messy, and you had gotten into so much trouble for it, but you eventually found each of the beautiful creatures a home and a loving family.

But of course, that was not all. That same week, those cruel boys were taught a rather drastic lesson: every single one of them awoke to a bed covered in dead rats, guts sprawled out like a modernist painting. You had been able to hear their collective screams that morning, and their families had secretly blamed you, even though you had sworn you could do no such thing. And though you hadn’t done it, you couldn’t help but feel a sadistic sort of satisfaction.

Shivering at the memory and the temperature, you pulled up your sweater, covering your nose and mouth. You hadn’t felt the true arrival of fall until now, as your breath fogged the space around you and made the tip of your nose hurt. You picked up your pace, suddenly remembering where you intended to be.

Upon arriving at Michael’s street, you felt an undeniable shift in the atmosphere: something wicked this way had come. The street seemed to plunge into furious darkness, and even the nearest lamppost could not succeed in illuminating the area. Your heart began to beat so fast your chest ached; your every limb melting into the consistency of jelly. The little voice in your brain was begging you to run in the opposite direction as you took short, uncertain steps towards his house. The closer you came to the front door, the more uneasy you became. Every hair on your body had abruptly stood up, making your skin itch as they rubbed agains the fabric of your pullover.

You knocked softly on the door, gulping audibly and praying to whatever god was listening that nothing bad had happened to Michael. Right when you thought you had heard someone whisper something right behind you, a voice beckoned you from inside.

“I’m here.” Michael called. A short pause, and then a very small sniffle. “I warned you.” You were relieved to hear him, but what you found inside was _so very far_ from comforting.

The hardwood had been dyed crimson with the blood of several small animals, drawing patterns of what looked like ancient runes and symbols, and their tiny lifeless bodies had been piled on the center of the hallway to the living room. Your stomach took a turn and you retched at the repulsive smell of death. Eyes watering, you advanced into where Michael’s voice seemed to had come from, only to find the boy standing in the middle of the room, shaking hysterically. Your mind took a few seconds to fully understand all that was happening: Michael’s left hand held a small knife covered with blood, the other clinging desperately to his phone. Everything on his body seemed to be drenched in sweat, tears, or more blood; to the point that you could not even tell if it was his.

But the most devastating part was the look on his eyes. That was the look of someone who had just shattered into pieces. When you took a step closer to him, his body lost balance, letting go of the knife and the phone, and he fell onto the floor. You rushed, fearing he could hurt himself, but he stretched a hand to stop you. 

“Don’t come closer.” Michael breathed, a painful sob visibly trying to escape his throat. You almost asked him to let it all go, that he was safe, but the words seemed to be stuck inside you, too.

“I’m not afraid.” You carefully inched closer to him, wiping a rebellious tear from his bloodied cheek. He shivered violently. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

Michael laughed bitterly, and more tears began to stream down his beautiful face. “I know _I_ won’t hurt you. But what if _he_ does?” He looked at you, desperate, and your heart cracked into several small pieces. He hadn’t meant the devil. He had meant the part of himself that he tried to hide. “I didn’t want to do this but I couldn’t stop it.” He pointed towards the mass of dead rats and birds, and then broke down. “It’s always happening and they always become roses and I don’t _fucking_ like roses anymore, they _fucking_ smell of death!” Michael shouted, breathless and sobbing.

Somewhere along the line you had started to cry too, and it didn’t help that you were completely lost. You had no idea what he was talking about, and you couldn’t think of what to do to relieve him of his pain. So you sat directly beside him, and pulled him into your arms, fully embracing his upper body. “Tell me everything.” You whispered in his ear, gently running your fingers through his hair. And so he did.

In between agonizing sobs and choked out words, Michael told you his story. It had begun when he was just a baby. He had killed his twin brother in his mother’s womb, and she had died immediately after he took his first breath into this world, which left him at the care of another woman, Constance, who later revealed herself to be his grandmother. But things began to go wrong when he was very little. He’d wander about until he found a bird, or a rat, and then he would take it home. A successful sneaking into the basement and then he’d work on mercilessly skinning the poor animal alive. Chopping off a limb. Bleeding it out. Your heart wrenched at the thought of Michael being exactly like the boys you had hated when you were younger. Would you have hated him, too? 

When it escalated into cats, his grandmother’s stress began to build. Michael deemed them gifts, since he could not understand why his nature was so disturbing to her. She had started to bury the poor animals along with rose seeds, which evolved into a fairly large garden shortly after. _So that’s why roses smell like death_ , you thought. “And when those boys in your neighborhood started doing the same, it made me so fucking furious. I hated that part of me, I hated it so much, and they were willingly giving themselves up to evil, and that was something I never had the chance to avoid.” Constance tried to get him help, but he viciously murdered a nanny, and later on a priest, and it was all too much for the both of them.

Michael also admitted to not know where a chunk of his childhood had gone; in the span of a night, the boy had grown into a teenager. His grandmother committed suicide subsequently, and he had found the body. He choked when mentioning her death, and you tried to convince him that she was in a better place now, but he went quiet before his eyes glazed over.

“I know. And it hurts because she didn’t want to see me, not even in the afterlife. My family was gone and it was entirely my doing.” His words seemed to be suffocating him. 

When Michael was done telling you about his new mother figure, Miriam Mead, and how the Satanist leaders had forced him to perform an ceremony that included a human sacrifice, you couldn’t help but feel like the poor boy had been used his whole life. Used for something he did not – _could not_ – understand. Used for evil, for destruction, for chaos. Even when there was so much humanity left inside him.

“When I turned seventeen, something shifted inside me. Taking a life began to feel barbarous; I would kill something and proceed to spend days in bed, vomiting, sweating through merciless fevers.” Michael confessed, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Still, it wouldn’t leave me. Week after week I continued to find myself torturing things, killing things, killing people. I _fucking_ _hated_ it.”

“There was nothing you could have done to stop it.” You traced his jawline, feeling heartbroken for the child, the boy, and the man that sat beside you. Stolen of an entire lifetime by people who wanted him to be something he couldn't comprehend. A faint whimper escaped your throat when he grabbed your wrist, pressing your hand closer to his face. You understood; he was desperate, he was withering, his tempestuous mind was erupting with insidious thoughts. He needed your warmth to keep him sane and alive.

“I should have just…died.” He hissed, and his jaw tensed up in pure rage. “But it can’t be done. Believe me, everyone in my life has tried it at some point.” His laugh was caustic, acid dripping from every word, but his tears were still betraying him. “But the fucker just _won’t die_.”

You gasped sharply. “Michael...” Your voice sounded so small when you buried your face in his hair, inhaling his scent, trying to keep yourself from bawling. You breathed in and out, closing your eyes for a few moments. Bringing his face to yours, you pressed your lips to his forehead. “Let’s clean up this mess, then you, and we’ll decide on how to proceed afterwards.” You muttered, trying to sound responsible, but your voice was failing you.

For the following half hour, the both of you spent the whole time digging a space for all of the tiny corpses, and buried them. You asked him for something to bury them with, so they would be honoured. Michael rushed into the house, and soon enough he was back, carrying a small object in his hand.

“ _No roses_.” Michael muttered, and opened his hand to reveal a tiny paper bag full of sunflower seeds. You looked up at him, at this man who was so hurt you wondered if his heart was beyond repair, and you felt a strange pull in your soul. To hell with the horrible possibilities, the frightening consequences, the hidden meanings and dangers and pain; he needed you in order to heal, and you were determined to make that happen.

You nodded, taking the bag in one hand, and cupping his face with the other. “No roses.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who Are You, Really? is by Mikky Ekko. i highly suggest that you listen to this one! it is such a Michael song, the accuracy is even a little scary. 
> 
> hit me up on tumblr @tillthelastbelltolls or in the comments! ok peace!


	6. Bottom Of the River

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, i, uh....y'all better get that holy water going.

Working in the garden took longer than both of you had imagined; but this did not necessarily mean that you didn’t enjoy studying how attentive Michael was with the work. His face scrunched up in concentration as he calculated the distance between each seed, and then proceeded to dig up a small indentation. Your heart warmed up when you began to notice the gentle soul that resided in his battered body: the horror of a stolen childhood had surely taken its toll on him, planting bruises on his heart and mind, but he was still so sweet. You wondered why exactly he had chosen to show you this side of him. Your thoughts were interrupted by a light chuckle.

“Where did your mind go?” Michael asked, a genuine question, with honest intent. He softly patted the last now covered hole, and looked at you, waiting for an answer. You noticed how his eyes were regaining their usual colour.

“I was just thinking about you.” He raised an eyebrow and you poked your tongue out, something that seemed to only make him laugh – which you enjoyed immensely. “And how fucking dirty you are. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Once again, you took Michael by the hand and led him to where you imagined his bathroom was. You gently pushed him in, winking. “Please take a shower. You smell horrible.” He snorted, rolling his eyes, and closed the door. You decided to do something instead of waiting for him to get out. Upon descending the staircase, you encountered those insidious markings all over the beautiful hardwood floor, and scoffed loudly _. Can Satanists really afford to make this big of a mess? Or do they have, like, phenomenal cleaning methods?_

You walked to the kitchen, and searched through the cabinets thoroughly. Nothing. Frustrated, you simply sat on the floor and rested your back against the fridge. How the fuck does one eradicate bloodstains? It was overwhelming. You scooted yourself closer to where the nearest symbol was, and sighed, placing the tips of your fingers on it. You closed your eyes, heart beginning to ache again. Those poor creatures. Taken from their peaceful lives into a whirlwind that most likely did not make any sense to their tiny brains, serving for a purpose that would never be their own.

Instantly, you felt an unfamiliar buzzing sensation on your fingertips, and opened your eyes to find something you were not expecting at all: the markings were slowly fading, as if an impatient invisible force had noticed your incompetence and decided to grab a cloth and scrub it all clean. You watched wide-eyed as the floor became spotless once more. Your fingers were still tingling, and you couldn’t help but laugh, stunned by the efficiency of this method. _Well, maybe I’ll just sit here and moan about all my problems until some magical entity helps me._

You heard the closing of a tap and decided to go back upstairs to interrogate Michael about the self-cleaning floorboards. Running past the spots where the blood had been, you gasped, still unable to comprehend what exactly had happened there.

“Michael, _holy fuck_ , I had no idea your hous-” You stopped dead in your tracks, legs stuck to the floor as if your feet had been pinned down; you felt like every internal organ in your body had temporarily paralyzed in shock.

Michael stood there wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist and a distinctly startled expression on his face. You felt your whole face boil with embarrassment as you averted your eyes to the wall beside you, and then the floor. _Shit. Shitfuck. God FUCKING damn it. Why do I always pick the worst moments to do things._

“Were you expecting me to shower in my clothes?” He retorted, sending a mocking smile your way, which you only caught because he had taken a step closer, causing you to place your eyes back on his. “Sorry, darling. You’re going to have to wait a little longer until I start walking around completely naked.” Michael teased, before placing a small kiss on the tip of your nose. Such a deliberately charming gesture caught you off guard, and you grabbed his chin, gently levelling his face with yours.

“Can I?” You whispered, smiling at the slight shiver that ran through his spine and reached your fingertips. You had wanted to kiss him again for so long now that you nearly forgot the last time you had tasted him had been just the day before.

“You never have to ask.” Michael’s nose touched yours, granting you permission. You let your lips slowly brush against his, tempting him. It was effective: soon enough Michael had placed his hands on the small of your back and was pulling you closer. You noted how he loved that specific place out of many on your body. 

You laughed contentedly. “Is that a favourite spot?” You hummed, and he smiled. _Of course it is._

“You’re so smug.” Michael bantered, slowly walking backwards toward his bed, bringing you with him. When he hit the edge with the back of his knees and sat, you were abruptly pulled onto his lap, which caused you to blush, laugh, and press your lips back to his in a span of four seconds. Your lips stopped receiving attention as he made his way down to your neck, placing soft kisses on the most sensitive spots. “I could kill you right here.” He mumbled, nipping at the skin right above an artery, and your heart raced. You'd find out later that he had left yet _another_ mark on your body.

“Would you?” You sighed, half joking, half actually expecting an answer. Of course, you weren’t terrified of him, but as your mind liked to remind you, Michael wasn’t exactly harmless. 

His laugh vibrated through you. “No.” He responded shortly. “Never.” And just like that, his mouth was back on yours, and the kiss began to grow in intensity. You could swear every now and then a small, a content groan erupted from his chest, and it rekindled the fire in the pit of your stomach. Obviously, it had more than one consequence; you were now fully straddling him, hands firm on the back of his neck, and you felt like your heart was on the absolute verge of bursting.

“You’re wearing a lot more than I’d like you to be.” Michael complained, teeth grazing your bottom lip. His hand tugged at the hem of your shirt; a silent question that made you feel like you were floating on clouds, blood boiling with desire.

“You should make them all disappear.” You mumbled absentmindedly, kissing his jawline. He suddenly grew stiff. You pulled back, frowning.

“Oh?” Michael cocked an eyebrow at you. You raised yours in response. _What is this idiot doing?_ “Okay then.”

And with a simple snap of his fingers, your clothes were gone, leaving you in your bra and panties. You squealed, tumbling to the right and onto his bed, covering your chest as if you were fully naked. Michael let out a hearty laugh, moving in order to lie down beside you. His glowing blue eyes scanned you, top to bottom, and you couldn’t help but feel ever so slightly self-conscious.

“Oh, jesus _FUCK_ , stop with that bullshit.” He protested, softly pinching your nose. “Don’t even begin to think about that when you’re the most beautiful girl that could ever grace this sorry ass planet.”

A smile crept up your lips, and you lowered your eyes to his chest. “I could easily say that you’re the most beautiful boy on this disgrace of a world, but something tells me you’re half angel.”

Michael’s smile matched yours as he took your hand in his and put it to his heart. “You always know what to say, don’t you?” His hand left yours to move the strap of your bra to the side, letting it fall over your shoulder. He then kissed the spot where it used to be, followed by the swell of your breast. You sighed, inhaling sharply afterwards. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” His low voice against your skin sent shivers down your spine. _Please, never stop_. “Out loud, baby.”

You thought your heart was about to jump out of your chest at his words. _Baby_. “Don’t.” The fire in your stomach became a blazing beast, sending you into a peak of courage: you climbed on top of him, planting both legs on his sides firmly and placing slow, agonizing kiss all over his chest and stomach. And oh, my, what a body this man had. You watched in awe as Michael’s eyes fluttered shut for a second when your tongue traced his abs. His hand flew to your hair, grabbing a fistful; you knew where this was heading. You knew what was about to take place. _Mama didn’t raise a fool._ You thought, amusing yourself. _What mama also hasn’t raised is a nun._

“You know…my upbringing was fairly Christian.” You started, hands trailing along the edge of the towel. A new plan unraveled in your filthy mind: you wanted to tease him until he could no longer control himself. You wanted to watch that pretty boy come undone. Michael panted in exasperation, eyes going wide, as you pulled where the towel had been bunched up for security. “But somewhere along the line, I just lost interest in being so unnecessarily sweet...I wanted something a little bit untamed, a little bit rebellious.” You leisurely moved the fabric downwards, never breaking eye contact with him. You watched his chest heaving frantically, and that tightened the supernaturally strong grip on your stomach. A delighted hum vibrated through you. “Still, what I always wanted was to have my first Communion. Body and blood of Christ, isn’t that what they say?” You inquired, tilting your head to the left, an instant of distorted innocence flashing on your features. Michael groaned, impatient. “But I don’t want to have Christ in my mouth.” Your voice traveled a couple octaves lower, something that instantly impacted Michael. He grabbed your wrist with vigour, and when you looked up at his face, his pupils were blown wide with sheer lust. It was absolutely hypnotizing.

“I must admit, Michael, I’m much more of a Devil girl.” You said, and he gasped at the utterly debauched tone you used to say his name. You pulled the towel completely off his body, tossing it aside into oblivion. “Forgive me father, for I have sinned.” You panted, hand trailing further to where he wanted you the most, and taking him right there. His eyes shut tight, mouth parting into a nearly perfect _o_. “And I will carry on _fucking sinning_ until my very last breath.”

When you finally lowered your mouth onto him, Michael let out a desperate moan that had the whole house shaking in a quite literal manner. The walls seemed to tremble from the power in his voice, and this was so perfectly satisfying. In all honesty, you had done it before; though it had never been this depraved. You had to repress a giggle when the thought of a very disapproving God crossed your lascivious mind. What would he think of this good, precious girl, throwing herself at the feet of such obscene actions? Comparing the act of Communion to sexual perversion?

Michael hissed, grabbing your hair in a fist and pulling. “Stop thinking about that.” His words came out strangled, a ragged breath pushing out of deprived lungs. “I can hear it and it’s not very appealing.” 

You pulled away with a loud pop, which made Michael moan and throw his head back. “No more religion?” You licked a firm strip up his length, and you could sense how his thoughts had started to scatter. He was no longer coherent, in any way, and you enjoyed this thoroughly. It only meant that there was more of the situation for you to take over. 

He grunted. “No.” And you found yourself being eagerly pushed down on him. As a result of his deliberate decision to interfere in your matters – after all, weren’t _you_ supposed to be in control? - you settled for a torturous pace that immediately had him crumbling to pieces under your touch. _Imagine this_ , you thought. _I’ve got the Devil putty in my hands._ You alternated between going so fast you thought he wouldn't last, and slowing down to such a lazy speed that you believed Michael was about to crawl out of his own skin. A hasty twist of your wrist and flattening of your tongue and he groaned, following with a chain of muttered curses that had you smiling wickedly around his length.

Michael’s grip on your hair tightened, his other hand mercilessly twisting the sheets. You watched in awe. _So this is what it’s really like to completely bend the fucking rules._ When his hips began to buck ever so slightly, your newly gained confidence reached a major spike, and you allowed your mouth to encompass more of him than you had initially planned to. If asked later, you wouldn't lie: it had been quite strenuous to achieve such mighty feat, given the magnitude _of the circumstances_ , but the predicament was nothing when compared to the unmitigated pleasure it had given both of you.

And just like that, Michael gave you what you had asked for in the first place, and came undone, a promise of a holy communion spilling in your mouth as he moaned louder than before, your name slipping out of him in a prayer-like manner. It took him more than a few seconds to come down from his high, and your face flaunted a proud smile when he finally recovered. You licked your lips slowly, locking eyes with the disheveled man who sat right in front of you.

“Jesus.” Michael sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back on his pillows. He was trying so incredibly hard to regain control of his breathing and mind, and you loved it.

You chuckled, moving up to lie down beside him. “Quite the contrary, _baby_." You started, which earned a grin from him. "There's not a lot of _holy_ going on here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bottom of the river, by delta rae. sin sin sin sin sin drowning in sin.  
> i hope @jesuschrist sees this and comes talk to me because i think i need it.  
> (@tillthelastbelltolls on tumblr in case u wanna go reprimand me)


	7. Flickers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a fair warning: at a certain point in the writing process of this chapter i had to turn all the lights on and take a full, deep breath. so yeah, just saying that i finally tapped into the "horror" part of american horror story.

It was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that you woke up in Michael’s bed. Except this time, his right arm was wrapped around your stomach and his face was buried in your neck, sending soft shivers all over your skin. The sun was a gentle giant behind grey clouds, softly asking you to rise. You looked at your phone. 11:39 am.

You turned around gently to prevent him from waking up, and just stayed there, looking at his soft sleep-tinged features. A flurry of different emotions washed over your mind and soul, stirring the drowsy thoughts that had been asleep until now; a memory came floating back to you. 

“ _Till I loved, I never lived.”_ Emily Dickinson whispered lovingly in your longing ears, and your limbs felt heavy against the mattress. You almost forgot that if you thought about it too hard, Michael would hear you. So you put an acute amount of caution into the thinking that followed.

First you contemplated the circumstances. A boy that you’d just met, who also happened to be the king of hell, was now a constant in your life after a short period of time. Only two days had gone by and countless feelings had already begun to surface. It was so intense and overwhelming you almost trailed off and let your ideas roam into Michael’s mind. You wanted to scream, fade into flames, break everything around you when you thought about the pain that rippled through his life, casting forlorn shadows upon all it could see. Echoes of a dismal past now haunted his every step, watching avidly for their next cue so they could bring more torment.

Before you could stop yourself, you failed to stifle a sob, which consequently awoke Michael. He blinked a few times, furrowing his brows as if he was staring at the sun.

“You feel bad for me.” He breathed, his tone more incredulous than you had expected. _So he was listening._ He shifted slightly, removing his arm from your waist and brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He tucked the loose piece behind your ear.

“Of course I do.” You admitted, resting your hand on top of his, keeping it on your cheek. “I’ve always been incredibly empathetic towards everyone in my life. I could pick up on the smallest emotions and, against my will, they’d become my own. Ever since I met you, Michael, I’ve been plummeting into something dreary and erratic that I couldn’t figure out at first, and it was making me feel like I had been pushed into my very own personal purgatory. But now that you’ve told me everything, I know this is happening because my soul is searching through the many fragments of yours, trying to put it all back together.” Your confession echoed around the room like a song.

Michael’s eyes were wet when you finally looked up at him. A small gasp left your mouth as you wiped a single rebellious tear from his cheek. “I don’t particularly want to drag you into this nightmare with me.” He countered. “There’s…” Michael hesitated, and you could sense the mental debate within him that was trying to decide whether to tell you or not. He finally gave into it with a drawn out sigh. “There’s a lot of things that I’m going to have to do soon. Horrible things, darling. Things that will rupture the world order as it is right now, and that will instigate a reign of pure terror. Dark times lie ahead and…” He trailed off again, closing his eyes. “I’m the one who’s in charge of bringing about this destruction. This decay. And I’ll show you.”

Michael bit his lip, a hint of doubt trying to keep him from revealing his future, and then proceeded to press his finger to your forehead. Immediately, you broke into tears, which progressed into a desperate wail bursting from the depths of your lungs as images of the apocalypse flashed right in front of you. 

First came the bombs. The civilians, trying to run, tripping over each other as ominous sirens blared everywhere. A horrifying sense of impending doom washed all over your body as the nuclear missiles silently hit the planet, a mass of fire and smoke consuming everything. Humanity, suddenly a withering outline of something that no longer existed. Then the aftermath: cancer. Vestigial radiation. Piles of bodies, much like the ones you had previously encountered on his floor. Survivors roaming the scorched land, looking for food, the injured. Cannibals. Degradation.

“Stop!” A violent howl emerged from you, coming out stronger and louder than you thought yourself capable of producing. Your cry lingered in the air like a spectral presence, so raucous and unrestrained that it was almost fascinating. The tears that still streamed down your face were starting to stick to your skin, salty reminders of the horror you had just witnessed. “Michael…” You sobbed, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as your eyes shut tight – a futile attempt to put an end to your crying.

“I know. I hate it.” He spat out, angry tears forming in the corners of his eyes, too. “It’s all that ever goes through my mind and I _fucking hate_ it. You have no idea how much I wish I could just be someone else. If I could just seamlessly disappear, it would be the greatest thing that would ever happen to me.” Michael exploded, now fully crying as you were. “In his angels he found wickedness…” His words came out as a mumble, preventing you from fully understanding them at first. When you realized he was quoting the Christian Bible, your weeping came to an abrupt halt.

You tried to ask for an explanation. “Why are you-“

“Is this what good church-goers do? Do they confess?” Michael blurted, getting up and away from you in a rather impulsive and rash manner. “Well, fuck, then here we go! Forgive me father, for I have sinned! Or better yet, am about to sin! I’m about to corrupt another innocent soul as I follow my path of destruction!” He yelled, looking up and spreading his arms wide. 

You shot out of the bed and approached him, grabbing both of his hands and holding them close to you. “Michael, what are you talking about?” Your voice trembled, eyes darting between his and everything around you. 

He didn’t seem to notice your interference, but then again, you had stopped when your hairs erupted into goosebumps. Something wasn’t right. The temperature in the room seemed to be dropping by the second, and you looked out the window to find a raging murder of crows flying above the house in hectic circles. You were about to ask him if that was his doing, but when you looked into his eyes, you let out a horrified scream. His once captivating blue irises had been replaced by lifeless white orbs. 

You let go of his hands hastily, backing away from him in fear. Your legs were wobbly and your mouth had grown dry. A sinister atmosphere seemed to have descended upon the room, causing you to shiver aggressively.

“Father, watch me sacrifice your last immaculate lamb!” Michael continued, a wolfish smile spreading on his perfect face. “Watch me become Cain, Nero, Judas Iscariot, Beelzebub, Belial…” At his beckoning of the devil’s names the room had begun to shake under your feet. You flinched, shrinking into a ball, tucking yourself into a corner. He then seemed to finally remember you were there, white eyes fixating on you. “… _Lucifer_.” Your breath caught in your throat as your limbs became paralyzed. 

He was still staring straight into your soul when, like the day before, the objects and furniture in his room began levitating. You felt the silent dread of the calm before the storm, horrified sobs shaking through your weakened body violently. You needed to get out of that place.

“Michael, please…” You cried out, a meek whisper bubbling out of your lips as you reached a hesitant hand towards where he stood.

That seemed to be all he needed to hear, and Michael’s mouth distorted itself into a confusing shape, a loud rattled choke slipping out. And, as if your most hideous nightmare had come true, he bent himself backwards.

You screamed, retreating onto the floor, watching in absolute horror as the boy you loved convulsed and spat old Latin curses. He crumbled to the floor, spasms tearing through his muscles as he crawled towards you. Your throat begged to speak but the words wouldn’t come out, causing you to suffocate as you tried to drag yourself away from him. His unintelligible words quickly evolved into dreadful growling that had every single one of your limbs begging you to run. Your heart palpitated painfully in your chest when you heard a sound that resembled that of bones snapping.

“Please, please stop!” You sobbed, as he reached you. His eyes were still white as snow, mouth agape, and a deafening silence seeped into the room like poison. “Please, Michael, please, come back. This isn’t you. This isn’t the boy I met, the boy who promised to never hurt me!” You begged. “Remember who you are."

Michael froze. Everything in his room fell to the floor with a loud thud. His mouth fell shut again, and you waited, but he seemed to be paying attention to your words. You tried again. “You told me you hated this part of you, that you wanted it gone. Remember?” You mumbled, limbs shaking in terror and begging you to retreat as you fought them off and crawled closer to him. _Please, please don’t do anything to me._ “Do you remember how you smiled when I thought about loving you? You certainly heard the thoughts that were occupying my head when we first met, too. I’ve been falling deeper into an abyss of loving you since the very start. I can't stand to watch you become someone, something you're not. Please, please come back.”

You hesitantly touched his face, letting several tears stream down when you noticed how unnaturally cold it was. You looked into his lifeless orbs, searching for any sign of _him_. “You know it, but I’ll tell you anyway.” You let your forehead rest against his, and your eyes fluttered shut, even though your adrenaline-riddled brain screamed at you to keep looking. You took a sharp, ragged intake of breath. “I love you.” 

And everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flickers, by son lux. i'm slowly realizing how much of the actual soundtrack i'm using here...
> 
> sorry if this got too scary. next chapter will be just like make up s-
> 
> ........never mind.  
> @tillthelastbelltolls on tumblr if u wanna chat!


	8. Come a Little Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a long chapter as compensation for the terrifying stuff that crawled out of my brain last night. also fluff. also more.

Your eyes opened to find complete darkness once more. Pupils adjusting to the pitch black that surrounded everything, you tried to remember what had happened. _Where am I?_ A rough breath tore through your lungs as you sat up, quivering.

A gentle whisper tickled your ear. “Hush, now, dear. You’re safe. Just breathe.”

You tried to find the source of the voice you had just heard, but it was hard to see. You wondered if you were still partially naked, and if this stranger had seen you, but were relieved to find out you were fully clothed. Still, you were so uncomfortable your skin tingled.

“Don’t worry. I’m Michael’s friend, Ms. Mead. I brought you to the basement when I got here to avoid more conflict. And by the way, I asked him to dress you up again.” She continued. You gasped, realizing you were still in his house, and because you had just met Miriam Mead for the first time. Somehow, being in the presence of the head Satanist brought you even more uneasiness than being around Satan himself. You had to repress a violent shiver.

Ms. Mead quietly walked away from you and lit a candle. You finally were able to observe her features as she sat down across from the mattress you were resting on. She smiled, the corners of her eyes creasing. It did not look like a smile; she seemed rather upset. You wanted to ask, but something inside you already knew the answer: Michael.

You cleared your throat, noticing it had grown dry. “Is he okay?” Your voice trembled. You didn’t want her to know how alarmed you were. “Is he still…?” You trailed off.

“Possessed?” She finished. You nodded, memories of the somber encounter with what resided in him resurfacing and causing your jaw to lock uncomfortably tight. You brought your fingers to your jawline, massaging slowly. “No, he’s not. He’s resting, as we speak. These…” Ms. Mead stopped, thinking about which word to use. “… _setbacks_ can be quite exhausting for him.”

You nodded again, trying to process the chain of events that led you to where you were. The light in the room flickered intensely for a few seconds, revealing more of the peculiarity of the space. The floor seemed to have been scrubbed endlessly, stains of bleach spread all over; there were marks on the walls that resembled claws ripping along drywall. You frowned.

“You won’t have to stay here, dear. In fact, I feel like it’s about time you got some fresh air.” Mead cheered, getting up from the chair and offering you a hand. You almost hesitated, but decided to trust her. If Michael still tried to harm you, she’d be the only thing to stop him. So you took it, and the both of you exited the dimly lit room and climbed the stairs to the main floor.

It was already dark out, and Michael was nowhere to be seen, which was profoundly vexing, but also quite relieving. Ms. Mead noticed your perplexed expression and ran a soothing hand up and down your back. Despite her being a complete stranger to you, the act of kindness was comforting, and you couldn’t help but send a shy smile in her direction. She returned it with equal consideration, lightly tapping your shoulder.

“Now, if you want to go see him, I think he would be delighted to know you’re in good shape.” She announced, turning around a corner and disappearing into the kitchen. She poked her head out to find you standing in the exact same spot. “Go on, dear!” Ms. Mead exclaimed, letting out a light incredulous chuckle.

You walked upstairs, taking extreme care not to rush headlong into the hands of danger one more time. A visceral desire to see his ravishing blue eyes again sent you nearly hopping into his room. You stopped, heart hammering against your chest. _Breathe, just breathe_ , you thought, attempting to calm yourself down. A hesitant hand reached for the door, finding it ajar, and pushing lightly.

“Michael?” You called, voice every bit as soft as it was scared, and walked in.

He was lying on his side, body shrunk into a fetal position. You could taste the heartache in the air like smoke. Battery acid on your tongue.

You kneeled in front of him, resting your elbows on the edge of the mattress, and tilted your head to the side. Michael refused to make eye contact with you, since his brooding had been interrupted. You wanted to lie down beside him and let him cry into your arms, but first you wanted him to look into your eyes and see.

“Hey.” You reached for his hair, entangling your fingers in the messy waves. “We don’t ever have to talk about what happened. I just want to hear your voice again.” You confessed, bringing one of his hands to your face and leaning into his warmth. A long, valiant sigh came from your lungs before you jumped over him and lay down.

He quickly rolled on his side to face you. “I could see you, hear you the entire time. And you were so scared. How could I let myself break like that?” Michael conceded, his voice so low you could swear it wasn’t him speaking. “I was terrified that I wouldn’t be able to stop. That I’d end up hurting you, and it was suffocating me.” He trailed his thumb across your jawline, and stopped on your chin to press against your lips. “But when you said those last words I broke down and…I guess I caused a major blackout.”

You smiled. “So that’s why the power’s out?”

“Yeah. I get carried away sometimes.” Michael chuckled bitterly. “I just wanted you here to tell you that…” His tension was becoming apparent. “I love you, too.”

Your chest heaved erratically. Oh, how you’d wanted to hear those words. And there it was, the denouement of a tumbling in your heart that had brought you such unexpected amounts of grief for the past few days.

You inched closer to him, body engulfed in his chaotic warmth, his unyielding tenderness. You could feel his lips on yours as you closed your eyes, entranced by him. He licked your lower lip unhurriedly and a million sparks ignited under your skin. You sighed into his mouth, body unwinding as he climbed on top of you.

“I adore you.” Michael started, his hot breath against your neck sending you into bliss. “I love the way you make me crumble at your feet. I want to worship you for the rest of my days on Earth, I want to make you my crown and throne and kingdom.” He nibbled softly, and then dragged his tongue along the fresh bruise. “I want you in every way I can think of, and I can think of a lot of them…” He went back to kiss your lips, humming as he hungrily devoured them. His hand lifted your shirt, twisting the hem with his fingers.

You heard a loud thud and opened your eyes to see his door slammed shut. Your blood felt like seltzer in your veins. The look on his face was otherworldly, bright like a blazing supernova, starved of touch – and more.

“I need a lot of things.” Michael panted before crashing his mouth on yours. “But I want to taste you more than anything else.” He added, hand suddenly sneaking under your jeans and cupping your wetness. The sound that left your throat was so desperate and sublime that you felt Michael replicating it as his mouth latched onto your collarbone. His fingers pressed into your core and he hummed in rapture, watching you shifting under him in perfect euphoria. “ _Fuck_ …please let me taste you…”

“Yes.” A strangled breath ruptured out of you. _Please_. You felt him smile against your skin.

In a matter of seconds, Michael had already managed to unbutton your pants and was pulling them down; you blinked and the rest of your clothes were on the floor. Before you could protest the fact that you were fully naked, your head was thrown back against the pillow from the feeling of his lips around your taut peak.

You moaned as he carefully sank his teeth into the soft skin, hand slipping into your core again. He kissed your breasts as if he was venerating you, taking every bit of you that he could find. He circled his fingers and you sighed, eagerness consuming you.

Michael moved around the bed and sat between your legs, gently parting your thighs as his fingers traced slow patterns on your skin. “By the way, I just wanted you to know that Mead can’t hear us.” He spoke, kissing the inside of your thighs. You shivered. “In fact, no one in the world can. I isolated us so I could devote everything in me to this.” He kissed the spot right below your navel. “You look so delicious like this.”

You groaned, growing impatient, and rolled your eyes when you saw him smiling wide. _You’re a conceited little fucker and I can’t believe how amused you are at my suffering._

“Oh, she’s angry now?” Michael teased, arms grabbing your thighs and holding you in place.

 _Michael_.

He chuckled, a wicked grin spreading on his infuriatingly beautiful face. “What? Out loud, please!”

You inhaled sharply. “ _Eat_.”

Your command seemed to have immediate effect on him. His mouth quickly pressed against you, tongue swirling around your throbbing core. Your hands flew to his hair as he languidly explored your wetness and you moaned so loud your body trembled.

Michael’s mouth on you was ecstasy; you felt like he was carrying you towards beatification. You were half anticipating holiness. You were fully expecting a fast descent into the deepest circles of hell.

“Yes, _fuck_ , Michael…” You sobbed as he picked up his pace, and felt his fingers digging into your thighs. You wondered if he was feeling this, as well.

“I am.” Michael mumbled as he took a second to breathe, and resumed his merciless attack on your core. You could feel the pressure building, the heat intensifying, your self-control fading. He wasn’t giving you a chance to recover. The coil tightened until it couldn’t do anything but dilapidate.

You were washed over with maddening bliss as he brought you to the edge of the hill. There was nothing in this world that could replace the moment you opened your eyes only to find him beaming between your legs, cheeks pink and sweat beading sparsely on his forehead. You tried to breathe in, but he decided to lick a firm circle around your center, which sent you into a frenzy. The edge was right there.

“Fuck!” You screamed. And he pushed.

You came hard and brutally, legs shaking and fingers twisting the sheets. You could swear stars were floating right above you, laughing at the loss of any remaining dignity within you. Yet, this had no effect whatsoever. You were still riding out your high when Michael brought you into his arms, kissing your forehead.

“Are you okay?” Michael laughed, caressing your cheek. You responded with a mediocre attempt at a chuckle that came out more like a wheeze.

You decided right there that his smile was the most overpowering force this universe would ever encounter.

“I am…so much more than okay.” You whispered, burying your face in his neck.

Later on, you were resting your head on his shoulder when you felt him shift uncomfortably.

“What is it?” You mumbled, lazily playing with his hand.

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “You know, I’m not the most family-oriented person there is, but isn’t your mom desperately searching for you right now?”

You laughed at his ingenuity. “Yesterday when I left at three, I left her a note saying I was going to be out early and all day long, possibly even longer.”

Michael furrowed his brows. “And what was your excuse this time, you _deceitful little shit_?”

You shoved him, making him laugh. “Fuck off. I told her I was going to sleep over at my friend’s house.” You explained. _Stop doubting me, you bastard_. “I feel bad because it’s like I’m manipulating my family in order to get Satan off.” Michael burst out laughing, and your body seemed to have been drenched in pure sunlight.

“You really are something, aren’t you?” He uttered, tears gathering in his eyes.

“I mean, I still feel bad, even though when I go back home I do all of my chores and everyone else’s. It’s almost like all of it is just a tactical gambit for the next time I’m going to escape and have you go down on me.” You continued, breathlessly.

You both began laughing again, making faces at each other. He decided to tickle you, which was your pitfall, and the ruckus you two were causing would have been loud enough to call the police – that is, if anyone were able to hear it.

You were flustered and tangled in his sheets when he took a step back to marvel at his creation: a hedonistic mess of a girl, giving herself blindly into his hands and asking him to be worthy of her trust. It was an oath. It was a promise from the past that everything would one day fall into place; and this was right then, right there.

No amount of picturesque views and divine intervention could have distracted your hungry heart from seeking his. Upon acknowledging this, you reached the most colossal dip in your existence: were you about to give yourself to him? Were your fickle, wandering dreams about to take shape right in front of your eyes?

Once more, you were on the brink of something; this time, an epiphany. To let the animalistic desires of human nature consume you whole, or to proceed in a world where you were not his?

You let your eyes focus again, finding Michael again. He looked so serene, so peaceful, so tempting. All the questions filtered into one single answer.

“I love you.” You breathed. Michael’s eyes shined.

“You know I love you, too.” He echoed, and soon after your confessions the both of you seamlessly got up from the bed and decided to go downstairs.

“Think you can get my clothes back on real quick?” You winked at him.

“I don’t want to…but sure.” Michael complained, but then snapped his fingers and your nakedness was gone. You giggled.

“I’m never going to get over this. I’m going to abuse it so much.” You poked your tongue at him, jokingly punching him in the stomach, and he responded with an exaggerated eye roll.

When you two walked down the steps, Ms. Mead was sitting in the living room, reading a book. You watched her smile knowingly at the sight of your clasped hands and delighted smiles. You blushed so hard you were certain your cheeks had caught on fire, but Michael led you to the hallway before you could cringe any further.

“I think I want to do something weird.” He suggested. You raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Like, we should go out and do something really stupid.”

You snorted, finding it hard to take him seriously. “And they say sex boosts brain power.” You mocked him. “I think I just witnessed your last brain cell fall from your ear.”

Michael squinted his eyes, and then quickly and literally swept you off your feet, throwing you over his shoulder. “I don’t care what you say, we’re going out and having an adventure.” He declared as you squealed and giggled in his arms.

When he finally put you back down, you threw your arms around him and kissed his lips with so much joy that it was bursting at the seams. He didn’t seem to mind it.

And moments after that, the two of you were shooting off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come a little closer, by cage the elephant.  
> this chapter gave me a tension headache so if you have nice thoughts, don't hesitate to share them with this poor ibuprofen-riddled soul. comments and kudos are highly appreciated! in case you wanna chat or make suggestions, i'm @tillthelastbelltolls on tumblr.


	9. Bedroom Hymns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait! this is worth it, i promise! and once again, i do advise you all to bathe in holy water.

You had never experienced anything so real. You felt like a small drifting dove under the gaze of thousands upon thousands of vultures. But you also felt unstoppable. The energy sizzling within you was so replete with sincerity and excitement that the only thing to do was keep running.

Michael’s laughter bounced from the quiet buildings and lonely streets, and you watched his smile grow like a weed on his beautiful face. His happiness was devouring you whole – you let him feast. You wanted it to overflow in you and ignite the sun inside your body. You could have collapsed right there at his feet, and tell him that you had been made to worship him.

He turned, eyes glimmering in the night. Your hand on his. His warmth transmuted into love. You felt it all, you felt every single thing in the universe.

“That’s a lot of thoughts.” Michael laughed, jumping over oil spills on the pavement. The echoes of his euphoria were music, and you could swear someone had written it just for you.

“I know. I can’t help it, though. There’s just a lot to take in.” You confessed, squeezing his hand gently, and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. “You’re made of too many mysteries.” You paused, and looked at the ground briefly as a tiny frog leapt between you two, disappearing into a drain. “I intend to solve them all.”

Michael gave you a lopsided smile, and quickly grabbed your waist, pulling you to him. He buried his face in your hair, and you sighed. He was calling your love from the sidelines, begging it to jump over the fence, to invade the field and play.

“I’ll happily give you every clue you need.” He replied. You helped yourself to a second longing glance into his eyes, and found something in there.

“What is it?” You smoothed over his eyebrow. You could feel a foreboding primordial sadness slithering in. A single dog barking in the distance.

Michael shook his head, dismissive. “I don’t know…it’s hard to explain.” He kicked over a can into the nearest curb. “I missed out on so much when someone decided everything for me. I don’t even know where to start.”

His eyes were sincere and pleading when he finally looked at you. _Oh, my dear, where does it hurt?_

“For you, I have all the time in the world.” You whispered into his lips, leaning in closer and pressing a firm kiss that he promptly returned. Breaking it off reluctantly, you watched his fiery eyes go from entranced to tender in a matter of seconds. You knew he was becoming softer under your touch, and his ruthlessness was melting into a gentle appreciation of the world around him.

“Your silence is disquieting.” Michael joked, a hand shamelessly slipping into your back pocket.

You huffed loudly, your blushed cheeks betraying you. “So full of yourself. I wonder what it’s like to be so unaware of how _annoying_ you are.” You blurted out. 

Michael squeezed your ass, earning a loud gasp from you. “Okay. Here’s the deal.” He started, eyes shining with mischief, and you realized you couldn’t decide if it was endearing or terrifying. Something had opened the cage; the beast was free. “I’m going to count to five. You run as fast as you can.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“If I get you, you’ll be my dinner.” Michael threatened. You let out a nervous laugh. “You don’t believe me?”

“Honestly, I think we’ve gotten past the point of not believing each other. Last time I didn’t listen to you, I left my phone behind with you. The worst thing I could have done in my entire lifetime.” You spat out, smiling into your sarcasm.

Michael grinned. His eyes only revealed one thing: you had challenged him into something you were not capable of escaping. “One.” He began, and your stomach contracted. Your eyes darted around, trying to pick a direction to run. “Two.” 

 _You arrogant, immoral motherfucker_. You bolted away, doing nothing to fight the smile that planted itself onto your face. The street you had chosen was a dead end, but there was an old Victorian house right at the end of it, and you intended to give Michael the wickedness he had asked for in the first place.

“Three.” You heard his voice fading away from you. Your stomach was twirling, filled with the most aggressive butterflies you had ever encountered. “Four!” He had to scream, as you had already covered a considerable distance. 

You turned around for a brief moment, only to find him standing in the same spot as before. But there was something different – there was an aura. A looming feeling of danger. Yet you were getting drunk off of it. The old house was a fleeting second away from your eager feet.

“ _Five_.” Michael leaned forward, a single impulse from taking off. You did not watch any further; you had reached the entrance, and gathering enough momentum to hop over the gate, you were inside. The leaves crackled under your feet like firewood burning the ground you so desperately tried to cover. “Ready or not, here I come, darling!”

You had taken a wide turn around the house, heading for the back door. Memories of exploring this place so many years ago flooded your mind, clouding your already foggy judgement. His darkness was enclosing; you were, somehow, pleasantly suffocating. The broken window through which you had first discovered the house had been left untouched, so you crawled in, expertly dodging the mahogany desk that rested against the wall underneath your entry. _Just like it was before…_

“I know where you are.” You heard Michael’s voice creeping in through the cracks in the foundation. It sent violent shivers down your spine. So you picked up your pace, squeezing your body into a tiny, crowded passage that led to the living room. Upon turning to run to the second floor, you stopped dead in your tracks. There was no sound of Michael. No sound of his heavy, oil stained boots. Nothing.

You could feel your blood running cold under your skin, as if an eldritch presence had manifested itself right in front of you. This, however, didn’t last long: a small sign of struggle behind you sent you bolting upstairs, not even bothering to turn around and check what had caused the noise. The chase was electrifying; of course you knew there was no real danger, but the thought of escaping a powerful entity – which was, in fact, an accurate description of Michael’s essence – was enough to thrill you. The wooden floors creaked under new weight, and you experimented with the sound in order to confuse the boy that was currently trying to find you. You tried to remember where exactly was the children’s room, but your memory was hazy from the adrenaline rush, and you ended up finding yourself in the master bedroom.

Once again, you halted. And once again: nothing. Not a slight groan from the old floors. Not a deflected breath wandering where it wasn’t supposed to.

And right then, you felt your gravity centre pulled from your middle, sweeping your feet off the ground. You fully came back to your senses only to find out you were now lying in the old bed. And Michael was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, wicked grin spread across his face. You rolled your eyes, pressing your fingertips to your temples in a futile attempt to calm down from the stunt he had _so_ _cleverly_ pulled on you. 

“It’s really cute how you think you can outrun me.” Michael started, his right elbow resting on the back of his left hand. _Mock me a little more, come on_. His smile grew wider. “Such a fallacy! People spend their entire lives blindly believing that they can beat me. That attending Sunday masses, carrying your yelling children in your arms, or stuffing the pockets of the Church with righteous dollar bills will somehow make me forget their cheating, their lying, their cruel thoughts. That time they killed a mouse just to see what it felt like. Or when they stole from mommy’s wallet.” His tone was menacing, yet you couldn’t help but be hypnotized by it.

“ _Oh_!” Michael feigned surprise. You nearly ripped the dusty sheets underneath you into several pieces. _Fuck off_. “Dirty mouth! Can’t believe you didn’t surrender yourself to me earlier.” He closed the distance, kneeling over the bed, hovering over you.

You smiled, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent. Somehow, Michael smelled of smoke, pine trees, and…something indescribably vicious. He was coming for your blood, and you were lowering your walls to let him in.

“I have been in your head a lot lately.” Michael kissed your neck. Your lungs burned. “I can hear every filthy thought disguised as purity. You’re not too careful with the way you think about me, baby.”

There was a hefty dose of lust in his voice. It was so thick you thought you could lick it up like honey, taste it on your buds – _ambrosia_ , because after all, this was a place of worship. You let him take your lips captive with one single swipe of his skilled tongue, an eager moan escaping the depths of your throat.

Michael’s hands moved to your hips, pulling you closer to his body. You could feel him pressing against your stomach, no trace of shyness in his eyes as he grew more and more aroused.

“I want you.” You confessed, eyes fluttering shut as he cupped you over your jeans. He paused, eyes focusing on you, mouth almost imperceptibly agape. _Don’t pretend you didn’t see this coming_. “I want you, now.”

Michael licked his lips, pupils blowing into complete darkness. “Like this?” He inquired, pressing his thumb against the exact spot that could turn you into a blabbering mess.

You arched your back ever so slightly into his touch. Your brain struggled to bring the floating words into a proper sentence. “No. I want more.”

He smiled, and rolled your lower lip between his teeth. “How so?”

You inhaled deeply, gathering all the strength you could possibly muster, and flipped him on his back, trapping him beneath you. “I get to talk now.” You warned, and decided to grind your hips against his, which elicited a groan from him. _Fuck, this is the sound I want to hear before I die._ “I want you to do things to me. To touch me everywhere, to use my body however you want.” You rolled your hips again, slowly this time. His hands flew to your thighs, fingers sinking into your skin.

“Please let me hear it.” His voice was a husk, bringing chills from your yearning body.

You smiled, tilting your head, lowering your face to his. You were so close his breath fell on your parted lips.

“Michael.” You grabbed his chin. He froze, blue eyes stuck on yours. You treasured this moment where the most dangerous man in the universe had become so vulnerable. “Fuck me.”

Before you could even blink, he had somehow ripped your shirt from your torso, and your bra followed. Both fell to the dirty floor as he propped himself on one hand, the other one resting on his favourite spot above the hem of your pants. He kissed your chest hungrily, nipping carelessly at the soft skin on your breasts.

There was a straining arousal that you couldn’t ignore pressing against your core, making you wetter by the second, causing you to instinctively rock your hips to get friction. He fumbled with the button and zipper on your jeans before ultimately deciding to get rid of your remaining clothes with a quick snap of his fingers.

You, on the other hand, had already managed to unbutton his shirt, tossing it onto the floor to join your own garments. His belt was next, hitting the ground with a loud clang. You unbuttoned his pants, pulled them down, and breathlessly succeeded to remove them.

And there was Michael, in all his natural glory, body warm and bare and yours to adore.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked, voice brimming with pure _need_. This wasn’t a question of whether or not Michael wanted you; it was a statement, and he was not going to be able to hold on much longer. Still, he waited for your green light with vehement patience.

“I’ve never been more certain.” You said, and a surprising amount of tenderness leaked from your tone. You wanted him to know there were no doubts, no ‘what ifs’, no consequences that frightened you.

Michael pulled you into a brief kiss before you broke it off, your body begging for him. Slowly and carefully, you got up on your knees, positioned your body, and lowered yourself fully onto him.

“Holy fuck.” Michael sighed, closing his eyes. He grabbed your waist, breathing erratically.

You had done that before. You had been in bed with other people. Girls, boys, all kinds of situations; yet nothing compared to the way Michael filled you perfectly. He had buried himself to the hilt, skin sinking into skin, perfectly molded to be the one who would hit every spot that could make you scream.

You only noticed you hadn’t moved when Michael chuckled slightly. “You alright?” He tried to contain his enthusiasm, and failed miserably.

A quiet laugh escaped your throat to match his. “Very much so.” You smiled, only to see that smiled wiped off your face with his first experimental thrust.

A moan ripped from your lungs and rang like a thousand church bells in the quiet of the abandoned house. You opened your eyes to see him eager to keep going.

“Yeah?” A single word flew from his lips in a quiet hush.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

And so he moved again, and this time your hips rolled to meet him, and the pleasure hit you like an unexpected tsunami, the intensity of his thrusts driving you wild. Your bodies settled for a pace that was enough to make sweat drip from your forehead.

“ _Fuck_ , Michael, don’t stop…” You panted, and his hands gripped your ass, urging you into him.

His moans were a melody that could only have been composed by the angels, and everything had been wiped from the face of the planet by the feeling of him inside you. It was chaos, it was a shipwreck, it was the apocalypse itself, and you couldn’t give _less of a fuck._

But Michael still wanted something more. So he wrapped an arm around your waist and smoothly rolled you on your back. You never thought your body could physically miss his presence inside you, yet you found yourself nearly frowning at the separation. He didn’t seem to notice, moving down, mouth so close to your aching core his breath gave you chills. Michael never broke eye contact as his tongue pressed against you, bringing a vigorous cry out of your mouth. You grabbed the pillow, twisting it, not a single worry over the state of cleanliness of the bed going through your mind.

“You still taste as delicious as you did yesterday.” He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss on your centre. “But I want something different today.” Michael began, a hint of eagerness dripping from his voice as he made his way up back to your face. He took a deep breath. “I want to fuck you so hard you forget how to breathe.”

Your eyes grew wide, a shallow gulp of air the only sound to be heard. He grinned. And without a single warning, Michael buried himself so deep you yelped. This only seemed to encourage him.

A throaty moan erupted from you when he began thrusting passionately, his hands roaming everywhere, mouth latched onto your neck. He only pulled back to look at you for a second.

“Yes, holy fuck, yes…” You were a chaotic mess of trembling limbs and rapid breaths, a pit of pure lust, giving yourself into him. Begging him to take more, so much more.

“Fuck…” He mumbled, and fell into a brutal pace that had you seeing stars. The vulgar sound of skin hitting against skin was sending you over the edge, coil tightening inside you, vision going blurry, moaning growing louder. Michael didn’t seem to be very far, either.

“Oh, god…” You moaned, fingers tangling into his hair. Michael’s thrusts became messier, his breathing turning even more erratic.

“You...” He started. You opened your eyes and felt your heart come to a brief halt at the unwavering adoration on his face. “…are mine.”

Michael thrusted a couple more times before burying himself completely, a loud moan coming from your throat as your walls clenched around him. You were coming and you hadn’t even realized. The world seemed to shake underneath you, breath refusing to leave your lungs just like he had promised earlier. Soon after Michael followed you, reaching his climax with a lusty groan.

He flopped beside you, pulling you to his chest. His grip was not too tight, but still unyielding. You were comfortable, safe, happy.

“You really are something, aren’t you?” You echoed his words from before. He smiled, and gently pinched your cheek.

“I hope you don’t mind sleeping here tonight.” Michael mumbled, his fingers tracing soft patterns all over your back, lulling you into pure serenity. “I already took care of the dust, so there's not a lot to worry about.”

You opened one reluctant eye to question him. “What the fuck does that mean?” Your cranky tone was a dead giveaway of how exhausted you were. He burst into laughter, which only caused more grumpiness in you. 

“No more dust. Or dirt. Or spider webs.” He whispered. You looked around shortly before laughing heartily. The room was spotless. _Clean freak_.

“I _fucking love you_.” You chuckled, burying your face into his neck. He pulled you closer, and you felt a soft blanket covering the both of you. 

“I _fucking love you_ , too.” Michael laughed quietly, and you closed your eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bedroom hymns, by florence and the machine.  
> comments, kudos, compliments, criticism, any kind of feedback is encouraged and appreciated!  
> if you want to chat (about anything) my tumblr is @tillthelastbelltolls  
> amen.


	10. Hunger Of The Pine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which you get a little bit feistier, a little more reckless.

_Michael_.

 

You remembered a sleepover when you were eleven. Going over to your best friend Susie’s house and baking cookies late at night. Watching horror movies that only seemed to scare the other girls, and talking about how much you all hated boys your age. But at a certain point that evening, the general subject seemed to have drifted towards marriage and children. Of course, you were all pre-teens, dreaming about a happily ever after without considering the challenges of the real world, but for you it was enough.

Your best friend had introduced the idea of brainstorming about baby names. They picked lovely ones, ugly ones, but you couldn’t think of a single name that you liked.

“Maybe Gabriel.” You pondered, eyes glazed over, resting on the first line of the little notebook you carried with you. “Or Michael.”

The girls giggled obnoxiously. One of them snorted loudly, and suggested you had a crush on Mike, your classmate. You frowned at her, mouth twisted with disgust.

“I DO NOT! I just think it’s a pretty name, that’s all.” You explained yourself.

“We should look up the meaning behind it!” Proposed Susie. You sighed, relieved to be out of the spotlight. 

She cleared her throat, and all of you waited. “Michael: from the Hebrew name 'Mikha’el'. Meaning ‘who is like God’. Portrayed in the Bible as the protector of Israel and leader of heaven’s armies against Satan.” She finished, a solemn look on her round face.

One of the girls gasped noisily. “Susie! You _can’t_ say that word out loud!” Her eyes widened in fear.

You had to stifle a laugh. _These girls are so stupid_ , you thought. “You all need to start worrying about things that actually exist.” Your mocking tone was enough to send the girl into a fit of rage.

“My _momma_ said you can’t say that name out loud, or he’ll come and get you at night!” She screamed, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. You were staring in utter disbelief, trying your hardest not to just walk out of the house, but spite stopped you. 

“What name?” Your eyes were sparkling with mischief. “ _Satan_?” 

The obnoxious little girl broke into tears, sobbing as if someone had pulled her hair, and you just sat there, rolling your eyes. Susie started laughing, and you joined her, which quickly turned the communal agitation into a big joke, and then a pillow fight. 

The night went on, but you remembered dreaming about the name.

_Michael. Michael. Michael._

 

You woke up from the dream to see Michael’s face peacefully resting on your shoulder. Eyelashes sporadically fluttering over perfect cheeks. Once more, the thought of a mutilated childhood sent a sharp ache into your heart, and you had to fight the urge to wake him up with hundreds of kisses and promises to give him the happiness he deserved.

Your fingers ran through his messy hair, eliciting a sleepy hum from him. You smiled, knowing he’d be doing the same for you if you were the one dreaming in his embrace.

And then your mind deviated towards a subject you had been trying to avoid: the future. What future? If he really was the bringer of the end, what was there to look forward to? Barren land? Mountains of decaying bodies? You shuddered at the thought; even though it wasn’t your imagination playing tricks on you. You had seen it. He had shown it to you. 

So you considered the possibilities. He was probably planning on staying alive after the apocalypse. Would he take you with him? Would he spare your life? You closed your eyes, praying silently that his promises hadn’t been in vain. That he hadn’t looked you in the eye and deliberately used you for carnal pleasure. But even if he had, it wouldn’t matter: there was no life after Michael. There was no getting over, no going to clubs and drinking more than your body could take, no gossiping with friends about him. There would only be a hollow spot in you through which every prospect of happiness would leak.

He shifted in your embrace, and you memorized his soft features under the gentle morning light. _Please don’t leave me behind when the time comes._  

Your eyes felt heavy, and you gave into the call of Morpheus, falling asleep again. 

It seemed to have been seconds since you had drifted off when you felt Michael bolt up, eyes wide, breathing irregularly. He looked at you and seemed alarmed enough to get you up and on your feet. 

“What’s going on?” You panted, and he absentmindedly dressed you up again, eyes darting from corner to corner. He walked around the room, pulling the curtains to inspect the outside of the house.

“Witches.” Michael’s voice dripped with aversion. Your body trembled under his ferocious gaze, and your mind seemed to be spinning on a wheel like a small lab rat.

“Witches?” You inquired, incredulously raising your eyebrows at him. “Is this a joke?”

“Seriously?” He scoffed, throwing on his coat and grabbing your hand hastily. “Of all the things you found out about recently, that’s the one that shocks you?”

A loud bang came from the front door. Both of you froze halfway through the steps into the main entrance.

“We have to go.” Michael commanded, going back into the tight passage through which you had squeezed in. He grabbed your waist, giving you momentum to jump over the desk and through the window. You offered him a hand, and soon you were both out of the house and running through the woods in the back. Another memory of your childhood floated by: looking for fairies and nymphs after school, reading books about mythology under great ancient trees in these woods.

“Where are we heading?” You inquired, turning around to try to catch even the smallest glimpse of what you were running away from. Michael urged you forward, bringing your attention back to the path ahead of you.

“There’s a clearing nearby, and then a staircase.” He explained, and you found yourself baffled.

“A fucking…staircase? In the woods?” Your voice came out high-pitched, and you mentally berated yourself for sounding so ridiculous. Still, it was bewildering to think about a perfectly normal staircase casually resting right in the middle of a goddamn forest. “This is the _weirdest_ _shit_ I’ve heard in ages, Michael, and just a few days ago you told me you are Satan!” You spat out breathlessly.

A distant shriek interrupted your train of thought, bringing you back into the present. Yes, you were running. From witches. You picked up your pace, trying to avoid falling right in your face.

And that’s when you saw it. At first, your eyes weren’t entirely sure of what was happening; steps leading up to nowhere in the middle of a forest you thought you knew by heart. You thought your mind was betraying you, but right in that instant you felt Michael’s grip on your arm, pulling you up the steps with him.

“We have to climb it and jump from the top.” He ordered. Though his voice was steady, his eyes showed an insane amount of panic. He pulled you harder. “Come on!”

You were heaving rapidly in absolute disbelief. “You really are expecting me to fucking climb this? And then jump?” Your tone was grating and choleric, and you imagined your face did not look too pleasant, either. But was he really asking you to jump off the top of a staircase and not die? “You’re batshit crazy! The only thing that this will cause is a broken nose, at the very least!”

Michael groaned in frustration. “Please, just trust me.”

You reluctantly climbed a few steps, and ended up pausing again. Michael was just about ready to burst in infernal flames at your stubborn behaviour. “But why are we running from them?” You questioned, looking for even a slight sign on his blue eyes.

“He’s running because he is terribly afraid.” A sweet voice came from behind you, causing both you and Michael to turn around abruptly. You drank in her presence: blonde, tall, carefully done eyebrows. Luscious pink lips. For a second right there, you could swear you felt your heart leap in your chest; that was more than enough to make your cheeks burn.

“Oh, Cordelia. Trying and failing again, I see?” Michael countered, corrosive acid disguised as words dripping from his tongue. Your body seemed to convulse momentarily at his aggressiveness. “Not this time. We’re leaving.”

You had known Michael was cocky. You had known he was more than capable of talking back to people, to make them feel smaller than they were. He had done it to you before, albeit subconsciously. But this was a whole new level of brutality. It felt like he could cut through your skin with the right sentence.

“Why are you taking her?” The woman who appeared to be called Cordelia took a step forwards. “She is one of us.”

Michael laughed, and it sounded so insipid and sarcastic you had to refrain from just shrinking into a tiny little ball on the ground and roll away from this confrontation. But something sparked your interest. _One of them?_

“I don’t know what kind of bullshit goes through that nasty little brain of yours, but she’s no witch. I would have known.” He retorted, shrugging sardonically. 

“You think I’m a witch?” You blurted out, immediately covering your mouth. _Oh, dear fucking Christ, what have I done?_

Cordelia’s smile made your knees wobble in place. “I don’t think you are. I know it.” Her reply was enough to send your brain careening into an identity crisis. “We just haven’t figured out what powers lie within you, but if you join us, we can work on them.”

The endearing lisp in her voice was so dreamy you almost forgot the present circumstances. You looked around to see Michael’s expression utterly skeptical.

 “She’s not a fucking witch.” Michael spat out angrily. “I would have been able to smell the putrid stench from miles away.”

She smiled again, peacefully. You felt yourself developing a sense of admiration for the composed blonde woman who stood right in front of you. And right in that moment, you realized she wasn’t alone: there were at least five women with her. One with straight hazelnut hair caught your attention. She looked unperturbed. On the other hand, the girl to her left had her arms crossed and a nasty grin on her full lips. You were astonished, to say the very least.

“Well, then it seems like your radar is failing, _fuck face_. She’s a witch just like we are.” The blonde girl retaliated. You were truly surprised to have found someone even more arrogant and forthright than Michael.

“It doesn’t matter. She has already given herself to me. She is _mine_.” Michael’s venomous syllables fell into the air like toxic gas.

“So you’ve completed the ritual?” Inquired the girl with hazelnut hair, her sweet voice falling on your ears like heavenly song, but it still bothered you that they all seemed to be speaking about you as if you were not standing right between them.

“No, not yet.” Michael confessed with certain hesitation. “The Unifying will be executed in due time.”

An older woman with bright red hair chuckled derisively. “Yes, Zoe dear, because the fulfillment of the prophecy requires that she gives herself _fully_ to him. Which appears to be a rather difficult task for our Jesus-haired edgelord here, since he lacks the warmth of a decent human being.”

 _‘Unifying’? ‘Prophecy’? What the fuck?_ Your brain spun inside your cranium. _Would anyone care to elaborate for the outsider?_

And maybe it was because nothing about that situation felt like a threat to you, or because you were so confused about the random staircase, or due to the fact that you hadn’t stopped being anxious for the past few days and it was taking its toll on you, but suddenly you found yourself laughing.

Every single person around you turned to stare at you incredulously while you burst into exhaustion-ridden laughter. You had to sit down on the bottom step and hold your head with your hands to keep yourself from simply flopping over to the ground, still snorting.

“What did you do to her?” Michael flared up like a bonfire, eyes full of rage and jealousy and bewilderment.

Cordelia simply shook her head. “I thought that was you.” She mumbled.

You were still giggling foolishly when you felt Michael sit down beside you. “What are you doing?” He muttered, grabbing your hand.

You wiped a few rebellious tears away with the back of your hand, taking in a gigantic gulp of air before speaking. 

“I think…I feel like it’s great to have grown up a common, ordinary civilian, you know?” You started, stirring even more confusion into the already overflowing pot. “I feel this way because now I get to sit here and watch all of you absolute children compete over something that doesn’t belong to either of you.” 

For a second there, you thought someone else was inside you, speaking through your mouth. You hadn’t realized that was the way you felt about the whole situation. Still, a tiny spark of satisfaction ignited in you: you had their attention.

“You see, I have been given little to no time to consider the things you two have said about my future, and I must admit, it’s rather…how should I say it…fucking inconsiderate!” You shouted, trying to recover from your laughing fit, and resting your eyes on Cordelia’s angelic face. “Do you realize how much of a red herring this situation seems to us? Even if your intentions are sincere, it still feels like you’re only using me to distract Michael and catch him with his guards down.” You then turned around to face Michael. “And you. I have never been this chagrined in my life. How come you think you can make decisions for me? The end of the world is near, did you not think I’d want to choose how it ends for me? You are all children.”

Michael’s jaw had hit the ground. He was completely silent, paralyzed by your monologue. Cordelia was taken aback, but still showed interest in you, which only felt like cheap flattery at that point.

“I do not care who you are.” You said, pointing an accusatory finger at the witches, “And I do not want to hear more about what you want from me.” You fumed at Michael, who still stood like he had been petrified by a supernatural force. “And I know that I could just sit here and go on for hours and hours maligning your attitudes. No more prancing around, pretending any of you know more about me than I do. So I will excuse myself…” You got up, and walked slowly towards the house again. “…and I hope you all figure this shit out without strapping me to the middle.”

And you carried on walking, knowing your ingenious mind had likely just put you in enough danger to wipe you from the Earth in a couple of seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hunger of the pine, by alt-j. (one of my favourite songs by one of my favourite bands!)  
> comments, criticism, compliments, kudos, all kinds of feedback are appreciated!  
> ps: if anyone - besides me - has heard of the staircases phenomena, please reach out! let's talk about how fuckn creepy it is!


	11. Cherry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are progressing! i promise you will enjoy my ending more than the actual season finale (at least the ones who loved michael as much as i did will like it.....rip.)

You had fired a bullet into a karmic mirror.

 _This_ , you knew. What you hadn’t expected was the sudden rush of adrenaline that came upon the realization that, in fact, your instinct of self-protection was aggressive enough to stun witches, or the Devil himself. You saw their attention; you seized it.

When you arrived at the back entrance of the old Victorian house, you heard clumsy footsteps approaching you, and turned around for a second.

“ _Michael_.” You muttered, acknowledging his presence, but still turning back around and squeezing into the house one more time. You heard him sigh behind you.

“Please, you have to listen to me.” He argued, a hint of exhaustion already seeping through his tone. “Those women are not who you think they are.”

You turned around, shaking your head. “First off, I _do not_ have to listen to you.” You snapped, scowling and pointing a finger to his face. “Besides, the only thing I think of them is that they’re incredibly intrusive. I just wanted to talk, that's all.” And you resumed walking up the staircase, turning sharply around a corner and entering the old office that belonged to the deceased founder of the family who had lived there so many decades ago.

The room was so filthy and dusty you had to suppress a massive sneeze, which made your eyes water. _Oh, great, now he’ll think I’m crying_ , you thought, cheeks burning hot with anger and embarrassment.

“Darling.” You heard him, whispering from the doorstep, as you sat on the floor next to a dollhouse. “I didn’t mean to upset you, and you know that. I just thought you were certain that you wanted to be with me.”

Michael sounded disappointed. But then again, so were you. How dare he think he could just speak for you? Especially when discussing such intricate topics, such as your future? Because one thing you knew for sure was that prophecies were very permanent. And it often meant giving things up. And how could you possibly do that if you weren’t even aware of what you were about to lose?

“You know that I do. I’ve told you multiple times that my feelings are sincere and irrefutable. You’ve also been inside my head; so I can’t lie. I do love you, but why are you hiding so much from me? If you want to be with me, I need you not to lie to my face. Particularly when what’s at stake is the future. My future.” You countered. There was a heavy weight inside your chest when you saw in his eyes that he had not meant to harm you. 

Michael bit his lip and sat down with you on the floor. His hand flew to the dollhouse, picking up a small black cat from the miniature front lawn, and playing with it absentmindedly. “Well...what do you want to know, then?” He seemed uneasy.

Your voice seemed to falter for a moment. “What is…that prophecy the witch was talking about?”

Michael’s face was ashen. He briefly closed his eyes, shut his mouth tight, and then decided to tell you the truth.

“The prophecy foretells that a woman of human flesh and blood will come to aid the rising Antichrist in his deeds when the time comes.” He uttered, as if he did not actually want you to hear any of it. “I thought it was all bullshit, but now it makes sense. It makes sense because it’s you, darling.”

You tried to refrain from looking stupefied, but in reality this was so much more than one simple girl could handle without _at the very least_ being completely floored. Michael knew this would happen, and tried to comfort you, grabbing your hands and pressing them to his heart.

“I just want you to know that both my human and demon sides are absolutely smitten. I am so in love with you. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” He confessed, voice vacillating to a degree that made you think he was about to collapse to the ground.

After blinking involuntarily several times, you took a deep breath, and put the cogs in your mind to work. You needed answers, and you were willing to dig deep in order to obtain them.

“Alright. What is the ritual?” You started, nervously. “And how do you perform it?”

Michael was visibly more satisfied with your curiosity. Little did he know, it was actually stemming from profound insecurity. After all, it would be very stupid of you not to be cautious in a situation like this.

“It’s a baptism. It must happen when you sign your name on the Book of the Dark Lord at the end of a ceremonial sacrifice.” Michael explained, excitement now absent.

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “A _sacrifice_?”

It seemed like Michael had forgotten that most people were not familiar with offerings. “Well, if you’re not okay with human sacrifices, we can find something smaller. Like a lamb, or a dog.” He tried to soothe you, even though he had no experience in the matter.

And his inexperience resulted in a loud scream from your throat, followed by you inching away from him in shock. Still, he looked dumbfounded by your aversion to the idea of murdering another creature in favour of the ascension of another.

“I can’t do that.” You declared, noticing your breathing was as irregular as if you had been running. “I _won’t_ do that. You know me. I refuse to even consider it.”

Michael sighed. “I know you, and I know that, and this is why I had been hiding it from you. I knew you’d oppose it the second I talked about the offerings.”

“Michael, that isn’t right. I know you’ve been raised to believe it’s okay to just take a life, but there are consequences. There are so many consequences.” You panted furiously.

He shook his head, furrowing his brows. “What consequences? What’s going to happen to me? Hell?” He mocked you, which was enough for you to get up and start walking away. “Hey, I’m sorry, I was only joking.”

You turned around, staring deeply into his eyes, and feeling happy with yourself when you found the smallest trace of intimidation. “I said there are consequences because you are taking what isn’t yours. You’re simply snatching it from its life and making everything miserable for them up until the very last second. You don’t fool me; I know you torture them before they die.”

Michael gulped and averted his gaze, throat visibly stuck. He had been caught off guard by your observational skills. Though you weren’t jumping around in circles screaming ‘ _I TOLD YOU’_ , the smirk on your face had an undeniable reason: you were _so_ _fucking_ _proud_ of yourself.

“I love you. But I do not love what you stand for.” You confessed, walking out of the room and bolting down the stairs. “I just need to get some air.” You yelled back at him.

That’s when you noticed you were face to face with the witches. Your little argument upstairs had concealed their entrance, and now you had no way of escaping; they were all standing right there, blocking your every movement, and still managing to stir your heart.

You shifted uncomfortably, too lost to make an autonomous decision. _Fuck_. “Uh, Michael?” You called, never breaking eye contact with the leader, Cordelia.

A girl to her left giggled softly, and you frowned at her. “He’s outside.” She revealed, her husky voice a surprise and an unfair blow to your already weakened drive. “We kind of trapped him there.” She added, covering her mouth and failing to repress a smile.

A soft wave of laughter rippled through the group of witches as you frowned, shaking your head, and then came to terms with it. _Well, he deserves it_. Cordelia stretched her hand.

“I believe we were never properly introduced. My name is Cordelia Foxx, and I’m the supreme of this coven.” Cordelia explained, that sweet lisp a cruel dagger plowing through your chest. You damned yourself for being so spineless when confronted by beautiful women; but not before you had already introduced yourself. In that moment, there was not a lot you wouldn’t give to have been born a heterosexual girl with _at least_ half a brain.

“That’s a cute name.” The snappy blonde from earlier who had so kindly called Michael a ‘ _fuck_ _face’_ was sucking on a red lollipop that stained her plump lips, and pulled it out with a pop. “I’m Madison. You’ve probably seen me on TV.” She shrugged as if it was no big deal, which was clearly a lie, and you knew it.

So you decided to feed her ego just a little, and let out a small lie. “Yeah, I totally remember!”

Her face lit up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve. “See?! She’s seen me, she knows who I am!” Madison squealed, eliciting more than a few eye rolls from the other witches. “Whatever. At least _she_ knows what real talent looks like.” She pointed at you.

“Now that Madison has taken the first step and introduced herself, I’d like my other girls to do the same.” Cordelia nudged the shy hazelnut-haired angel, encouraging her to speak.

“I’m- I’m Zoe. Nice to meet you.” She stammered ever so slightly, lowering her eyes to the ground as her cheeks blushed softly. You smiled, trying to reassure her. If anything, you were the only harmless thing in that place.

“I’m Misty. It’s an honour to finally meet you, my dear!” A woman with messy blonde curls approached you, eagerly taking your hands and giving you no time to process her words. When your mind realized what she had said, you furrowed your brows, and she laughed. “I’m sorry, I should have explained myself. What I meant was that it’s nice to finally meet someone who has such a beautiful aura!”

You couldn’t help but smile, which prompted her to do the same, and _oh my,_ was she beautiful. Cordelia, noticing Misty was about to start a conversation that would last for hours on end, softly pulled her backwards by the shoulder.

The owner of the husky voice from before stepped forward, offering you a shy smile. You noticed she was wearing a laurel crown, and a beautiful floor-length sheer dress. “My name is Mallory, and I’m new to the coven. Nice to meet you.”

“My dear, I am so glad you’ve had me for last. After all, dessert is the most important course.” The older lady with bright orange hair and a cloudy eye sauntered towards you, wrapping her palm around your chin and propping your entire head up to examine you. You could see Cordelia laughing from the corner of your eye. “Oh, my sweetheart, you are a true beauty! Your face reminds me of the works of Bouguereou! An exquisite artist, if I must say, but such a troubled soul. I can see that in your eyes, too, my dear.”

You shivered, and it was like the atmosphere had been forcibly altered. Cordelia’s expression showed a fine mixture of equal parts curiosity and suspicion, but you couldn’t figure out why. “Would you mind explaining what exactly is going on between you and Michael?” Cordelia offered you a hand, before walking towards the closed door in the main entrance. With a swift wave of her hand, the door unlocked itself, hinges creaking from the lack of use. You were delighted, but far from surprised. In fact, there was nothing in the world that could startle you at this point – not anymore.

You decided to tell her your story. The forgotten phone. Finding out about his past. Witnessing his possession. As you and the rest of the group sat on the front steps, you unraveled the story that had taken place during the past few days; mutating your life into a whirlwind of second guessing, dramatic revelations, and a lot of rash decisions.

By the end, you could tell they didn’t know exactly how to proceed. A few of the girls had begun whispering, albeit politely, trying to figure out a proper conclusion for your case; you, on the other hand, attempted to find a way out of that little circle and to get Michael and run. But a single thought had decided to override all others that lived inside your head.

“Were you being serious? I mean, when you said I was a witch?” You inquired, feral grasp on Cordelia’s attention. The girls went silent, gaze fixed on you.

She nodded solemnly. “Yes, my dear. And a very powerful one.” She took your hand, soft palm on yours. “I do need to tell you something, but I don’t want to startle you too much.”

You tried not to laugh at her concern, but failed, chuckling warmly. “I don’t think anything has the ability to disturb me anymore.” You squeezed her hand in reassurance. “Please, tell me.”

Cordelia pursed her lips, and looked around. “Girls, could you give us a moment? Myrtle and I will explain everything to her. Wait for us on the sidewalk.” She turned back to you, and sighed. “Did Michael tell you about the prophecy?”

You nodded, frowning. “Yes.” A painful ache spread inside you as you recalled your conversation earlier. “He did.” 

She shook her head, as if she understood what you felt. For a brief moment, a sneer began to form in your face as you got ready to tell this _bitch_ that she knew _nothing_ about you or what you felt. But then she laughed. "I understand you. And I also understand why you feel like that. It's awfully strange to have someone else reading your thoughts, especially when your society lied about mystical powers to you all your life. But if there's anything we can do for you, this is it; we can introduce you to this beautiful world. Where you belong." 

The leader of the coven shared a meaningful glance with the orange haired lady, and you felt a strange rush of dizziness out of absolutely nowhere, leaving you lightheaded. You got up hastily, startled to your very core. Myrtle simply hummed a few notes distractedly, bored by your ignorance, focusing her attention on a butterfly that floated by. You were shocked, but your body was betraying your intentions. 

“Oh, _fuck_ , he said I shouldn’t trust you.” Your voice seemed to vanish as your knees wobbled, forcing you back down. “What are you two doing?” You sounded strangled, tears pricking your eyes. You could feel every limb in your body being overcome by an intense tingling sensation, as if someone had turned on the static in your television body. Your lips quivered as those defiant tears streaked the sides of your face.

“We’re not doing anything, dear. This is your memory manifesting itself. It will come back to you.” Myrtle advised, resting a hand on your shoulder, and then gently pushing you towards Cordelia. You wanted to protest, to leave, but your body was giving out, and soon you found your head resting on Cordelia’s lap. She put her fingers on your temples, and slight buzz of pure energy spread from the spots her skin touched yours.

“Now... Close your eyes, let go. You’re safe. I promise.” Cordelia drew soft circles on your temples and forehead. You were so terrified, so powerless – but you wanted to believe her so bad. So you took a deep breath, relishing in what little control remained inside you. _“Dormiatis dum castellum super nubes ascendat.”_ She whispered, pressing her lips to your forehead.

Your eyes slowly fell shut, and Cordelia’s gentle beauty veiled by a haze was the last thing you saw before you were engulfed by darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cherry, by lana del rey.  
> comments, kudos, feedback? all appreciated immensely!! recently i've noticed that the general public interaction here has faded a little. please let me know if you're still interested!!! 
> 
> ps: "Dormiatis dum castellum super nubes ascendat" is a sleep incantation that means "may you sleep until the castle rises above the clouds"
> 
> @tillthelastbelltolls on tumblr!!


	12. Isle Of Flightless Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all, i'd like to thank everyone who took a little moment out of their busy lives to comment on the last chapter!! i was flooded with gratitude and warmth, and it only encouraged me to keep going! again, thank you so much. i would honestly have given up if it weren't for all of you lovely creatures.

It felt like you were ice skating on the clouds, gliding effortlessly along the darkness, until you felt yourself fall onto a puddle. Everything was pitch black all around you, except for Cordelia standing a couple feet away from you, smiling tenderly. The only source of light came from her hands, and it took you a few seconds to make out the shape of an old fashioned lantern.

“Where am I?” You mumbled, shivering. The water froze your toes.

“This? It’s your memory. We’re inside your head right now.” Cordelia explained, voice soothing and calm as ever, but it wasn’t enough for you to match her tranquility. However, she seemed to understand the commotion within you. “It’s okay. You’re still safe. I’m only here to guide you around.”

She approached you, footsteps echoing as they splashed water. There was very little light to be able to discern things, so you took her hand on a whim, and you felt her wrap her fingers around yours; an act of reassurance. You heard words ringing like soft bells. “ _You’re safe_.” It was Myrtle’s voice, distant and disembodied.  

“She’s speaking from the outside.” Cordelia smiled. “I’m going to show you what you need to know. It's essential that you understand this one piece of your piece so you can help Michael later on."

“What do you mean? If we’re only inside my head, shouldn’t I know about everything that happens in here?” You asked nervously, trying to remember anything that you might have brushed off in the past. "Shouldn't I be able to remember?"

“Not necessarily. A lot of people tend to internalize things so deeply they never come across them again. Still, that is not your case. Someone put you under a memory spell.” She led you down what looked like a swamp, into your own house. However, it looked much darker, much more sinister. “An identity spell is what people cast on witches that might be in danger. And I see that it was someone close to you who performed the ritual when you were just a child.”

You walked up the front steps and stopped on your porch, right in front of the door. It was unlocked. You took a small step back, afraid of what you would find ahead.

“Don’t worry. I’m here. Besides, we’re just going to look at old memories.” She said, stepping closer to you. “You’re safe.” She whispered in your ear, the repetition becoming a source of courage inside your trembling heart. You had taken pride in being brave all your life. What was stopping you now?

You inhaled sharply, and reached for the doorknob, twisting and walking inside all at once. You wanted to get this done with.

Upon entering the house, your senses were overcome by the presence of your grandmother in the kitchen. The smell of her ginger cookies flooded in, and you felt an intense urge to burst into tears. Your late nana. You walked into the kitchen, finding a younger version of you sitting at the dinner table, nose buried into a fairy-tale book. Your grandmother hummed a soft song.

Just like that, everything was gone. The memory turned to dust in front of your eyes.

“No!” You screamed, reaching out for what was no longer there, and letting out a half-strangled sob that made your throat ache.

“There’s more.” Cordelia placed a hand on your back, urging you to walk forward. “Remember, you’re on a mission.”

You had not walked three full steps when you realized you were in your childhood bedroom. Your grandmother sat at the edge of the bed, running her fingers through your hair as you slept. You noticed sweat beading on your forehead, and a bowl lying on the ground next to the nightstand, which was filled with medicine, cloths, towels, and glasses of water. 

“I remember this.” You started, eyes glazing over. “I was five. I got very sick out of nowhere, and spent about a week in bed. My mom was so worried, she thought I had gotten one of those big flus, and that I was going to die.” You laughed bitterly, tears streaming down your face. “But Nana kept telling her it wasn’t a flu.”

Cordelia rested her hand on your shoulder. “And do you know why she said that?”

You turned to face her, shaking your head softly. There was a soft echo rippling again, causing the water at your feet to wave around gently.

“That was the same week Michael made his first conscious kill.” She revealed. You felt a violent ache in your stomach. “What I wanted you to see here, dear, is that none of this is a coincidence.” Cordelia furrowed her brows, biting her bottom lip. “There’s one last memory I’d like you to visit.” 

You concealed your raging emotions and moved onto the last memory.

But there was something wrong. It didn’t feel familiar.

You and your grandmother were outside, and it seemed to be late at night. You were sitting on a pile of flat stones, surrounded by a circle of salt and what looked like rosemary. Your nana chanted in Latin, softly, as if not to scare you. However, it didn't seem to be working on older you: you were in shock, and terrified to your core.

“This is not right.” You stammered, lip quivering. “I don’t remember this at all.” 

Cordelia nodded reassuringly. “I know. You weren’t supposed to.” She acknowledged, pointing at the ritual. “That is what your grandma is doing here.”

Your eyes were closed, and you seemed to be asleep. Your grandmother smeared a gold substance on your forehead, and whispered something unintelligible in your ear, before the whole thing faded into nothingness again.

“Wait, I need to know what she said!” You turned around and searched Cordelia’s eyes for an answer. The water felt colder against your skin, sending goosebumps through your entire body. You were sure your lips had begun to turn purple, just like they would when you were seven and spent far too much time in the lake after dark. 

“It was a memory spell. This one was crafted expertly by your grandmother.” She replied, face beaming with admiration. “She was one of the greatest witches I have ever met. It was an honour to have her in the coven with my mother and I when I was younger.”

There was visible frustration on your tired face. “But why did she do that? What was she protecting me from?” You begged for an explanation.

Cordelia simply sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. “Your grandmother wanted you to forget about your fate so you could have an ordinary childhood. She knew what you were going to go through in the future, so she spared you from the anxiety while the time still hadn’t come. I guess she was going to break the spell…but she passed away before she had the opportunity to do so.”

You looked around, feeling disoriented. “Please, Cordelia, please tell me what she was hiding from me.” You felt your cheeks wet with tears you had not noticed earlier.

She hesitated, but then took your hand and squeezed it firmly. “Do you remember the prophecy Michael mentioned earlier?” You nodded, eyes restlessly scanning her face. “Well, he was only partially right. The Order of Satan has lied so much about the coming of the Antichrist that they started to believe in their own lies. Yes, there is a human woman that will rise along with the Devil reincarnate, but she will not aid him; she is there to deviate him from his path of destruction.” 

Your eyes widened so much you could feel the tips of your eyelashes brushing against your eyebrows. “And…and you think I’m that woman?”

Cordelia smiled. “Again, I don’t think so. I know it.”

Your heart hammered brutally against your ribcages, and you felt your breath coming out ragged. You were hyperventilating, unable to move, shout, run, anything.

And soon after, you were awake. You came back to your senses like a body plummeting from the atmosphere right into hard ground. Jolting upwards, you backed away from the witches. 

“Now, now, child, you mustn’t be afraid of your true identity.” Myrtle chuckled, straightening her dress as she got up. "Your powers are only a reason to be proud of your ancestry."

One of your hands pushed against the left side of your chest in an attempt to placate your distressed state of body and mind. “I’m not scared.” You gulped, finding your throat dry. “I’m only startled, that’s all.”

Myrtle approached you slowly, examining your face like she could read your emotions. In all honesty, however, you had no doubt she was doing just that. The last few days had proven every single absurdity to be more likely than you had previously imagined.

“You feel responsible for the boy.” She announced, forehead wrinkling. “Even when you were not aware of the prophecy, you felt this way. Why is that?”

Cordelia cleared her throat loudly, as if to advise Myrtle not to question you about the matter. You only realized what the older witch had meant when the answer became crystal clear, hovering right under your nose. 

“Because I love him.” You mouthed, staring into the ground. It seemed to be shifting under your feet, causing you to question your own sanity for a second. 

Myrtle’s face twisted, and she looked crushed by your statement. The girls, who had been standing behind you, stopped talking all at once, silence hanging heavy like lead. You pondered if there was a possibility of taking a sabbatical from this chaos. An image of a secluded beach in Hawaii flooded into your mind, and you wished you could be there – no one to disturb your peace.

“Love?” Mallory asked, walking up to you and Myrtle. Her expression showed aversion, and you understood. But you wished she knew the same Michael you did. “I don’t think he’s capable of such thing.”

You sighed. “I don’t know exactly what he feels. But I do know what I feel. And what I also know is that he hates himself as much as you all do.” You countered, trying to lighten the mood. “Michael has let himself become vulnerable for me so many times. I don’t think he actually wants to be the Antichrist. I think-“ 

You hesitated, hitting a proverbial obstacle. “I think he would work with me against the Apocalypse if I decided to help.”

Cordelia looked at Myrtle and Mallory almost furtively, assessing their feelings about the subject. When she spoke, she sounded desperate. “Are you sure we can do this?” 

You felt sympathy for her agony. Cordelia seemed like the mother type, one who looked after her coven like they were all bound by blood; like they were all one. She didn’t want her precious girls to go in fire and pain.

You inhaled deeply, and knowing this wasn’t their personal vendetta against something Michael had done, you nodded. “I will help you.” You agreed, and a collective sigh erupted from the throats of nearly everyone around you. “Under one condition.”

“And what is that?” Asked a slightly worried Myrtle, brushing her ridiculous mass of hair away from her face, uncovering the milky-blue eye that looked like it hid ancient secrets.

“We don’t hurt him.” You demanded. “He’s been hurt enough for a few lifetimes.”

Cordelia looked in your eyes, tenderness obvious in her own. “You’re just like your grandmother. So kind-hearted.” 

You smiled shyly, looking back at the other witches, who had been listening to the conversation. “We don’t need any more suffering, do we?”

 

When you finally saw Michael again, it was as the witches undid their trapping spell. He, who had been hovering above the ground, fell with a thud and a grunt.

“Witch-bitches.” He muttered, frowning. You managed to stifle a giggle, even though this made your eyes water. Michael turned his attention back to you, and rushed to stand in front of you, shielding you from the women. “You leeches, stay away from her!” 

He looked so deeply agitated you felt a painful tear in your heart. One of your hands reached to cup his cheek firmly, turning his face to you.

“Michael. It’s okay. They were helping me.” You explained, slowly, letting him take it all in without imploding. 

He shook his head. “Helping you?” Michael sounded absolutely perplexed at the thought of peaceful interaction with the witches.

“Yes. They let me take a look into my childhood memories and I…” You trailed off and gulped, afraid of his reaction. A wiser person wouldn’t poke the bear, but you weren’t exactly known for being wise. “Now I know that I am, in fact, a _witch_.” 

Michael’s eyes looked like they had blown twice in size, irises screaming insults at you without him having to say a single word. In a way, his expression showed utter betrayal – teeth grinding aggressively, jaw shut tight. But he also looked bewildered; as if he wanted to understand more before making a rash decision. And everyone in that square mile knew how prone he was to acting impetuously.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake violently, causing several of you to fall abruptly. Michael, on the other hand, stood there, unyielding. His limbs were all locked as if ironclad, a terrifying scowl carved into his once soft and lovely face. In the distance, you heard crows cawing as they took off from treetops, swarming above you. 

“I thought I could trust you!” Michael howled. He was seething with hatred and disgust, and you could do nothing to stop him.

“Since when can’t you?” You retorted, cheeks growing hot. You could not believe you were giving yourself the luxury of feeling insulted amidst literal apocalyptic chaos, but you stood firm. “It’s not like I’ve been hiding a secret from you! I didn’t know about it either, Michael. Besides, all we are trying to do is help you.”

“We?” He repeated, laughing bitterly. “That’s new. Who’s we? Certainly you’re not talking about us. You’re talking about yourself, and them, right?” He spat, pointing at the women who kept a safe distance from him – which, in itself, was probably the wisest thing anyone could do when faced with a raging demon. “And you say you want to help me? How the fuck do you all plan on doing that?”

At this point, his words were coming out of his mouth like sharp knives. You weren’t sure where to begin, how to explain it all to him. You were now certain this had been a massive mistake. 

But Mallory interrupted his rambling. “Do you remember when you tried to kill us?” She inquired. You went completely pale, body stuck in shock. And just like that, the crows vanished. The ground went motionless. 

“You tried to kill them?” Your voice was barely a whisper, and Michael responded by frowning, both at you and the other girl.

“He did.” Mallory granted, raising her eyebrows. “Anyway, if you do remember that, Michael, I’m going to ask for one favor.”

Michael clicked his tongue bitterly. “And that is…?”

“I want you to think about why we didn’t kill you right then.” She elaborated, bringing his malicious demeanor to a halt. You saw it in his eyes: he was in shock. He could not think of an answer. “Because, let’s be honest, we both know I could do that.” She paused, and looked him straight in the eye, piercing into his very soul. “I still can.”

“I…” He began, but lost confidence rapidly. You could sense his gigantic ego being struck like a tree in a lightning storm, and a part of you was sincerely happy to see it go. “What do you want?”

“We want to help.” You added, firmly. “I want to help, they want to help, we all want to help you, Michael. What we’re asking…what _I’m_ asking is that you trust us.” 

The air was saturated with so much tension that you feared the moment the dam would break. You prayed, quietly, fiercely, that it held up. That it held him.

“Michael. We know you don’t want this.” Cordelia concluded. You saw the apprehension of a mother in her warm features, and your heart wrenched for her. It was obviously a crucial moment for every single one of you, but Cordelia was the one who had the most to lose. “We can help you. We can keep you safe.”

Michael’s eyes were flickering, and you couldn’t precisely make out what he was feeling, but you knew he wanted that safety. He wanted to live a normal life, to have normal wishes, to grow old. You knew that, even though he hadn’t said it out loud. There was a reciprocation of longing floating in between his soul and Cordelia’s, reflecting back into yours, flooding the place like the aftermath of a tsunami.

“How can you be so sure of it?” Michael murmured, almost too low to hear. His voice trembled. And once again you could see nothing but the scared little boy who lived inside his body, screaming for help, never to be heard. A boy so directionless, so terrified, so vulnerable to the evils of the real world. A child torn like cellophane, crumbling to pieces, and still being held to impossibly high standards by a religion that he didn't even agree with. A physical manifestation of human pain, of agony and loneliness. “How do you know I’ll be safe?”

“Well, if we’re all being honest here, Michael, no one can be sure.” Myrtle chimed in, her signature singsong voice swirling in the air like an unruly kite. “We simply cannot predict what you will do next, especially since you’ve proven to be a hazard to every single thing around you. However, we do want to believe you.”

Michael held his breath and looked at you, pursing his lips. “I’m scared.” He whispered, and you knew how hard of a grip he currently had on himself. He was trying so hard not to break under the pressure that had crushed many before him. “I thought I was going to be angry, but all I can feel is fear. What if we try and I can’t be saved? What if I end up killing everyone and everything? _Fuck_ , what if I end up killing _you_?” 

As heartbroken as you felt for him, you managed to keep yourself strong. You smiled tenderly, pushing a lock of hair away from his eyes. “It won’t happen.” You rested your forehead against his, feeling the familiar warmth of his skin spreading all over your own. It was comforting to you to simply touch him, and you noticed he felt the same way when his shoulders relaxed. “And if it does, it won’t matter. I’ll die knowing I loved you like no one ever has. And the rest will be dust.”

You watched him smile into desperate tears as he nodded, agreeing to the plan. You knew what he was so desperate for: hope. He longed for it like the scorched earth begs for rain, like teeth beg for flesh. You knew all of those things not because of his words, or because of your intuition, but because it had been written down. He buried himself into your arms, crying _hard_. It reminded you of late summer thunderstorms, the ones that had been gathering all summer long, and of how powerful their tears became when they finally broke. 

Michael stepped back, trying to regain composure. “I’ll work with you. I want this bullshit to be over, I want to be someone who doesn’t bring hurt.” He sniffed, wiping his tears vigorously with the back of his hand. “I don’t care about my pride, Cordelia. Not anymore. I have seen the things this darkness does through me, through my body, and I am _fucking_ _tired_ of it. I won’t cause any more destruction in this world.”

You could sense a heavy weight being lifted from everyone’s shoulders at once. A fulfillment of a desire they had given up long ago. It planted a small seed inside you, and asked you to tend to it. You wanted to watch it grow; you wanted to watch all of them grow. All of them, equally human, equally extraordinary. Cordelia, Myrtle, Mallory, Zoe, Madison, Misty. Michael. 

And after all, you were set to help him heal. How deep could his wound be?

But you should have known the answer. 

_Centuries. Centuries deep._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> isle of flightless birds, by twenty one pilots. i'd like to ask you to google the lyrics to this song, if you want to. genius.com provides a very thorough explanation, and you'll most likely be able to understand why i chose this song specifically. 
> 
> once again, comments, kuddos, any sort of feedback is immensely appreciated!
> 
> @tillthelastbelltolls on tumblr <3


	13. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this chapter specifically thinking about those of us who really love the witches and the idea of a coven. i feel like this season really focused on the love and companionship between women, and it was such a refreshing thing to see on mainstream tv. but don't you worry, michael enthusiasts, next chapter will be a blessing from our dark sweetheart.

“Is anyone gonna speak, or should I just stand here and watch as you all stare at each other in silence like idiots?” Madison’s voice was grating, cutting through the quiet like a sharp, sarcasm-ridden dagger. You had to shake your head to fully regain awareness, which also seemed to be lacking in Michael – and quite frankly, every single person in that situation. “God, you people are so fucked up.”

“Aren’t you a sweetheart…” Mumbled Misty, her thick accent slipping through gritted teeth. You watched Madison’s face go from smug to incredulous to full of infernal hatred in a span of two seconds. This, of course, was exactly what Misty had intended to cause, and she broke into a fit of laughter as Madison cursed quietly at her.

“Okay, you two, quiet now. We have important decisions to make.” Cordelia shot them a stern look, silencing both, and turned to you and Michael. “Since both of your houses have already been marked down by The Dark Order, I feel like we should make this house our new headquarters to avoid any other problems and-“

You interrupted, glaring at her, eyebrows raised in shock. “My house has been…marked down?”

Cordelia momentarily opened her mouth, ready to answer, but seemed to have second thoughts after noticing how appalled you looked. She mulled over her words, and then looked at you once again. “It’s not something to worry about. They won’t touch your family, I believe.”

“You _believe_?” You hissed, taking a step closer. Sure, you admired her, but withholding information was a deal-breaker for anyone, and most definitely for someone who had a special seat reserved at Satan’s dinner table. “Is that supposed to be _comforting_? Should I sigh in relief now?”

You thought you heard Michael giggle quietly behind you, and turned to him, face flaring up in anger. _Oh, don’t you fucking dare_. You were ready to jump at his throat for considering any of this even slightly amusing, but Cordelia brought your attention back to the more important part of the situation.

“Listen, I sent a few of my witches there earlier, and they casted a very powerful protection spell around and inside the house.” She explained, placing both hands on your shoulders in order to calm you down. “No one can be completely safe in a scenario that could lead to the apocalypse, but I promise you we’re doing our best to protect as many people as we can. Your family included.”

“Does this mean Michael’s house is safe, too?” You asked, exchanging a quick look with him.

Cordelia frowned, pursing her lips tightly. “We tried to approach the house, but they were faster than us, and put up traps all around the perimeter. Witches have no easy way in, and if we get caught inside, there won’t be any way out. I’m sorry about that, Michael.”

“I wasn’t planning on going back. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier, but all those people ever did was _use me_ under the guise of adoration.” He spat out, seeming eager to get the words out of his mouth as if they were poison. “That’s not my home anymore. And even though I was pretty wary of making a deal with witches, I see there’s no other possible solution for this.”

“Oh, dear, but I’m afraid you must go back one last time.” Announced Myrtle. Michael shot her a suspicious glower, brows knitting together like angry caterpillars. “Would you wait until I’m done speaking before you burst into flames, for goodness’ sake?” She reprimanded him, voice rising an octave and splitting Michael’s attitude in half. “Anyhow, I meant to say that we will need you to make sure those fanatics leave us alone, and for that to happen we thought it would be suitable that you spoke to Miriam Mead.”

Michael looked around for a moment, pondering the difficulties of the task. “And how do you suggest I trick her? She’s one of the most important members of the Church of Satan. If she has any suspicions, soon all of them will come for us.”

Myrtle looked in the distance for a while in silence. Then she seemed to have an idea. “You tell her you’ve been summoned by your father, and you need to go on a journey by yourself. She won’t think twice.”

“But she raised me.” Michael countered, expression growing significantly confused.

“No, she didn’t.” Cordelia added, shaking her head. “No one did. You didn’t grow up. You were put on this Earth as you are now; you simply grew in size. No one knows you like you do, Michael, and that is final.”

Michael considered it, but quickly seemed to discover there weren’t any other options. So he nodded once, firmly, and started walking away. “I’ll be back before it gets dark.” Then he turned to you. “Please stay safe.”

His face had been so full of concern and love that your knees buckled slightly, and you, in your desperately sleep deprived state, almost started crying on spot. After everything that had happened that day, you were certain that, if you stumbled upon a breach, you’d run to a bed and nap for hours. Your head was so full. You were exhausted.

“She will.” Said Cordelia, smiling at you. “She’s in good hands.”

As Michael walked away, you watched with longing. It had been a while since the last time you were alone, or at least without him, and it felt strange to miss his warmth on your skin. You worried for him, of course, but you knew he could fend for himself. You, on the other hand, were a human disaster, and could not be left to your own devices in a situation as potentially catastrophic as this. Nevertheless, there was nothing to be done, except wait, and do it patiently.

You sighed deeply, drawing unwanted attention to you. _God, these women and their constant silence_. “So, about the headquarters, are you planning on casting a protection spell here as well?” You wondered, a single idea slipping into your head like a quiet mouse. You were a _witch_. You could do _witchcraft_. You could _help_. “I mean, I feel like we’ll need something pretty strong.”

Mallory noticed where your curiosity was coming from, and took your hand, catching you completely off guard. When she did this, a pleasant sensation arose from the contact, something that reminded you of what it felt like to touch the petal of a flower, or sinking your feet into soft sand. You knew it wasn’t desire, or anything of the sort, because you had felt it all before; no, this was something much stronger. Something primal.

 _You’re a sap._ Her voice invaded your mind, abruptly interrupting your musings.

You jerked away from Mallory, fixated on one thought: that hadn’t been you speaking inside your head. When you looked at her, she was flaunting an all-knowing smile right to your face. Which was as charming as it was infuriating.

So you decided to experiment with it, and give her the taste of her own poison. _I might be a sap, but at least I can get it._

Mallory audibly snorted, eyes squinting and cheeks growing red as a pair of poppies. You two looked absolutely ridiculous, but neither wanted to stop. Meanwhile, Cordelia, Myrtle and Zoe seemed to be in deep conversation. You and Mallory, in complete opposition, were too busy talking inside each other’s heads to help them out.

 _Is his ass as nice as it looks?_ She wondered, causing you to widen your eyes at her, unable to stop yourself from smiling like a foolish fifth grader who had just been asked about her secret crush.

 _Mallory, this is seriously not the time!_ You responded, putting all of your energy into attempting to look calm and collected while she giggled inside your head.

 _So it is, then?_ She insisted, squeezing your hand.

You nodded, giving into her persistence, and causing her lovely face to scrunch up as she tried to contain a violent burst of laughter.

“You two are such freaks.” Madison muttered, walking by and purposely bumping into Mallory. This woke both of you up to the conversation the other witches were having, though you wished you hadn’t. Never before had you agreed so much with the fact that ignorance is, truly, a gift. 

“So, from my understanding we will need a pretty powerful protection circle to ward off any potential…” Zoe hesitated, walking around the back of the house, assessing the situation. “Problems? I think that’s the best word to describe them. Cordelia, do you think we should use the herbarium or a more ancient approach to it?”

“Maybe a combination of both? I know Misty brought her box of dried plants, and I think we can use a bit of blood magic as well.” Cordelia replied, waving at Misty to get the supplies. “Just to be sure.”

And so you watched the women at work, amazed that there could be a society so dependent and loyal. Women protecting each other, vouching for each other, bound by something so much more meaningful than blood. It struck a chord inside your soul that you had never noticed before: the longing for something other than the consuming, remorseless nature of loneliness. The idea of belonging to a circle, of being part of something was enough to set your heart aflame with new emotions that rose from depths previously unexplored.

As the witches gathered instruments, dried herbs, and salt, you followed around like an excited child, knowing Michael wouldn’t oppose to your newfound sense of having a rightful place. Earlier you had even asked, thinking he’d be bothered by your desire to join them, but he simply smiled tenderly and kissed you briefly, sighing as you walked away. For this you were extremely grateful: no amount of complaining, eye-rolling, or mood-swinging would have kept you from admiring these women as much as you did.  

“Here’s the tricky part, though.” Zoe showed you a line from an old book that had been set atop a tree stump. The paragraph seemed to be talking about ‘blood’ and ‘sacrifice’ in a language that you recognized as Latin. “I know that purposely cutting your own skin open might sound as unappealing as it can get, but it’s quite reassuring to know that such powerful magic would never exist if it weren’t for _your_ blood.”

Misty wrapped her arm around your shoulder, leaning into your hair. “Isn’t it absolutely wonderful? That we’re blessed like this? We’re just so powerful…”

She spoke like the world was a dream that she had wished for her whole life. You were, in all honesty, loving every second of this new life.

But soon your brain became clouded with concern again: your family.

The sheer veil of happiness and excitement fell to the ground like a dirty rag. You thought about your poor family, probably waiting for you to go back home right this instant. How were you supposed to leave them behind? You could not. You thought of your little sister. And with the thought still floating in your mind, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and wrote a quick message to your sister.

_hey dork. i know i’m super super late and mom is probably mad at me already but like_

_can you just tell her that i’ll be home in about 4 or 5 hours?_

You weren’t sure if this was going to work. Your mom was strict, and you had already been away long enough. Even though there was no school for the next week or so, you were expected to be home for most of that period.

A strident chime announced the arrival of a response, and you fumbled with the password for a moment.

_ok so this is gonna sound weird but like….mom and dad aren’t even talking about you. it’s almost like you never existed_

You frowned, eyebrows furrowing. How was it possible that you had been forgotten about by your parents?

_what do you mean?? they’re not even complaining that I’m not home???_

_no, they’re not!_

_it’s so weird_

You looked over at Cordelia, and suddenly a thought rushed into your mind. Maybe that was part of the spell. You remembered how she mentioned the spell had been casted inside the house as well as outside, and your parents’ slipping memory made absolute sense.

Another chime, and you realized you had left your sister without an answer.

_i’m worried about you though, is everything okay?_

A pang of guilt reverberated through your entire body. Leaving your little sister alone had felt like someone was pulling your heart out of your chest and stomping on it; still, it had to be done. You were on a mission.

Sighing deeply, you started typing out a text that would simultaneously feel reassuring and end the conversation, avoiding further questions.

_everything’s peachy! i’m doing some super boring and extensive research for bio and it might take the longest time cuz we’re observing the growth of moss on a log so like….don’t u worry sissy!!!_

_oh yikes. lame :P_

_i miss you though, come home soon_

You smiled to yourself, fidgeting with the necklace that you wore. That necklace had been made years ago by your sister, and you refused to take it off. It felt like a lucky charm, like a talisman, even if the only thing it said was BSF – best sister forever – with an elaborate heart painted around it. You didn’t care if the beads were tacky or childish; it was your beacon of hope, given to you by the most important person in your life, and for that it was worth the whole world’s weight in gold.

_miss you too, monkey. love you lots_

The message was sent with an adorable swoosh, and knowing your sister’s pre-pubescent nature prevented her from answering to anything that included a word as _gross_ as “love”, you shoved your phone back in your pocket, ready to forget about it for the rest of the night.

“So, love bug, what’s the whole deal with you and the antichrist?” Chirped Mallory, who was mixing up a dark boiling liquid in a small cauldron. You wanted to laugh at the cliché, but refrained from tormenting her; she was a fiery little thing without anyone else’s help.

“We, uh…” You started, trailing off. Honestly, though, what _was_ the deal between you two? Were you together? Were you dating?

“You guys fucking?” She blurted out, mischievous grin spreading wide on her porcelain doll face. You heard Zoe reprimand her, breathing out a ‘ _what the fuck is wrong with you?’_ into the air, and it sent Misty into a giggling fit.

You didn’t even pretend to blush – you were far past that stage. So you just nodded, shrugging, only mildly disturbed by her blatant curiosity and lack of boundaries. Well, you were going to be sisters, weren’t you? _Might as well just go with it_.

Madison hummed contentedly, turning her attention back to the strange black brew, and adding handfuls of something you did not want to know anything about. “I was just asking because it’s been ages since any of us got laid. I feel like our virginity is coming back.”

“Speak for yourself.” Mumbled Misty, quickly getting distracted by a yellow butterfly that floated by her. She watched closely as the colorful little insect fluttered above her herbal collection, failing to notice the collective surprise that erupted from her absent-minded confession.

“What?” Exclaimed Mallory, smile wide on her face. The other girls seemed to be just as shocked. Of course, you hadn’t been part of the group for too long, which meant all the gossip was confusing, but you still spied on each one of them with close attention.  “Who is it, Misty?”

Misty only smirked, winking at you. Suddenly, like a bell tolling inside an abandoned church, a cacophony of echoes inside your mind made you gasp. Someone seemed to be screaming a name, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to make out what name it was. Your hands, pressing against your ears, did little to help your brain quiet down.

_Lia. Elia. Lia elia elia elia._

“Hey, what’s going on with her?” You heard Madison say, yet another voice adding to the utter racket that thundered viciously in your brain. “I was only joking.”

“ _Quiet_ , she’s hearing something.” Whispered Zoe.

You felt a familiar warmth on your arm, and realized it was Mallory’s hand without even opening your eyes. It was somewhat surprising that you had already grown so accustomed to the feeling of her skin, but this wasn’t your biggest issue.

 _It’s okay. Just breathe._ Mallory’s voice was like a wave of serenity washing over the shore inside your head, moon dipping behind the clouds to let the tide ease off. _Just breathe._

Either because you trusted the advice of a much more experienced witch, or simply because you were just so overwhelmed by the uproar inside you, you decided to breathe. You inhaled deeply, slowly, and focused. As you imagined water running in a creek, rolling over cobbles,

 _Cordelia_.

You looked at Misty, bewildered. “I know who it is.” The words escaped before you could stop yourself, and the result was a very tense Misty Day, looking more like a statue than a human. Her beautiful skin had grown pale.

“Don’t tell them.” You heard her mumble under her breath, eyes round and wide as two blue moons, and it reminded you of a kid whose biggest secret had just been discovered. Little did she know, no amount of money and glory in the world could have made you sell her out. “Please.”

“I won’t.” You breathed, still feeling rather stunned by your abilities. But you were not the only one to be astonished. While Madison looked positively bitter, the other girls looked at you with admiration overflowing from their glowing faces.

Mallory gave you a warm smile before jumping and hugging you firmly. “You found your powers!” She cheered, and the other girls followed quickly, congratulating you and beaming with what looked like a mixture of happiness and relief. Even Madison joined in, giving you a symbolic pat on the back, too busy with her brew to even consider leaving her spot.

One of them, however, remained petrified. You got up and walked across the circle of women, sitting down right beside her. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” You whispered, taking her hand in yours. “If you’re not comfortable sharing that with the group, I certainly won’t be the one to betray you.” Your tenderness dissolved her worries as water does with sugar. “I’m a witch. I’ll always be loyal to my sisters.”

It was rather ironic that Misty had become, of all things, very misty eyed at your promise. She smiled in between tears, and hugged you tight. You felt a strong energy flow through you, something resembling the way sunlight feeds the earth, or how water runs deeper than blood.

“So you really aren’t gonna spill it to us?” Madison whined, lighting a cigarette.

You stared at her, unbelieving and slightly irritated. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Alright, jeez, can’t blame a girl for being curious.” She retorted, taking a drag out of her cigarette and blowing the smoke right into Zoe’s face, who coughed and wheezed for a second before eagerly switching places to sit by your side.

You welcomed her by wrapping an arm around her shoulder, the other arm still holding onto Misty. Madison began telling you all a story about her time in Hollywood, and none of you were paying attention to it, but no one told her to stop, either. A single moment of shared happiness, watched from afar by a very emotional Cordelia and a pleased Myrtle.

You would think about it later, and come to the conclusion that you had finally found your true home among a fairly dysfunctional coven of exceptional women.

As you sat there, the girls told you everything you needed to know about them, the coven, and even bits and pieces about Myrtle and Cordelia. For example, how Zoe and Madison had thought they could outdo Frankenstein and piece together a body just because they felt like it. Or how a few of them had ended up in their own personal versions of hell. Or how Michael had brought back Misty, Madison, and Queenie – yet another which you still hadn’t met – completely out of spite, and then fled from his Academy thinking he was on a special quest for his father.

You found out about an axeman that tried to kill them all, a Supreme that refused to do her job, voodoo queens, and a horrible rich woman who tortured her slaves out of curiosity and an entirely evil heart.

“Out of all of those stories you all just told me, it’s pretty safe to say one thing stood out from the rest.” You announced when they were finished helping you catch up.

“And what’s that?” Asked Zoe, leaning her head on your shoulder.

“You love each other fiercely.” You answered, squeezing her gently. Madison looked puzzled, so you decided to explain your statement. “Somehow, after everything you’ve done to each other, after everything you’ve endured, you still band together like a pack of wolves. Like you depend on each other. That, to me, is the highest form of love.”

Madison pondered your answer, tapping her cigarette softly and staring vacantly into her potion. “Higher than romantic love?”

You looked at Misty, who had braided several sections of your hair and was now adding small flowers to the strands. “Yes. Higher than that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love, by lana del rey. i'm stealing this bit from the genius description of the song: "she muses on how this generation’s youth maintain a sense of wonder and empowerment in the face of adversity, due in part to the romanticized idea of love driving them forward."
> 
> and in the end, it's all about female empowerment, babey ;-)
> 
> got something to say?? comments and kudos are highly appreciated (and feed the soul of a writer dying of lower back pains!!)
> 
> @tillthelastbelltolls on tumblr in case you wish to befriend the achy writer.


	14. Geyser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my lord, i am so sorry for being this late! i have been extremely sick lately, and was unable to sit and write for the longest time. because of that, i compensated you all with an extra long chapter and a lot of things that might, ahem, keep you entertained. also, there are some important notes at the end of the chapter!

When Michael finally returned to the headquarters, you were nearly fast asleep on Misty’s shoulder. You and the witches had been watching the clouds go by for the past hour, and it filled you with so much peace you felt yourself dozing off. Surrounded by an atmosphere of absolute safety and tranquility, sleep came fast and knocked you out.

A soft tap on your forehead woke you up, and you opened your eyes to see Michael’s face inches above yours. You smiled at the comforting sight, and he mimicked your expression, pressing an upside down kiss to your lips that had your heart doing cartwheels.

“You look lovely while you sleep. You know that, right?” He whispered, brushing his lips against yours once more.

You chuckled, chest trembling with pure warmth. “Creepy.”

He rolled his eyes, and stood up, offering you a hand, which you gladly took. When you looked around, you noticed no one was awake, or around: Misty and Zoe still slept on the grass, Madison was nowhere to be seen, and Cordelia’s voice came from the second floor of the abandoned house.

“How was your little adventure?” You asked, stretching until you heard enough satisfying pops threading down your spine. You noticed a fresh grass stain on your jeans.

“Well…” Michael breathed in deeply, and then released a powerful sigh. “It was something. Mead almost didn’t believe me, though, and that was a bit alarming at first. But I managed to convince her that I had received a ‘call that I couldn’t dismiss’, and that was enough to send her praising Satan and all that shit.”

You interlaced your fingers with his, realizing his hands were much colder than you had expected.

“I can imagine how frustrating it was.”

He nodded, and soon you were both heading towards the woods in silence. In any other circumstance, you would have been terrified of wandering into a dark forest during nighttime, but his presence deterred those fears from arising. After all, there was nothing in this world that could be more dangerous than the Devil himself.

A few fireflies danced around your head, flickering against the shadow as you two ventured further into the woods. You silently admired the way Michael’s face glowed even in solid darkness; his eyes watched the exuberant night fall, and yours watched tenaciously as he took in the beauty all around you.

“I’ve always preferred the night.” Michael admitted, voice low as the gentle susurrus of the wind blowing through the leaves on the trees above you.

You looked ahead once more. The fireflies now flittered in the distance, drawing jumbled patterns in the air, and the sound of an animal howling far away crept into the night like a song.

“I can see why you feel that way.” You replied, embracing his torso. He replied by wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close.

“I remember once I read a book about this heroine who gave everything up to save a dickhead from his own inner demons.” Michael intoned, planting a curiosity seed inside you. “She was this amazing woman with powers and he was a weird guy with a lot of mommy issues. It made me so angry at the author for writing such a stupid book that I accidentally lit it on fire.”

You laughed against his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek. “I hate those books.”

He paused. “Then why is this our story?”

You hastily stepped away from him, aware of the sheer disbelief that showed on your face. “What are you talking about?”

Michael bit his lip. “You know, I’ve unintentionally heard your inner musings a few times and found out that you feel obligated to save me.” He looked almost disappointed: both in himself for being invasive, and in you for feeling that way.

You filtered out the momentary indignation, thinking of the best way to respond to his statement. His eyes were wistful, deeply rooted into some sort of regret that you simply could not fathom.

“I don’t feel forced to do anything. If I didn’t want to help you, I’d have stopped a long time ago. Besides, I am not only here to save you! I’m here for you to love. Just as I love you.”

Michael stared at you for a moment, expression indecipherable, and then he took a step closer. The leaves crackled under his feet as he leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“I do love you. And there’s one more thing.” He nibbled at your earlobe, jumpstarting the blazing passion that resided in your soul. “We should go check out that staircase again.”

“I find it impressive that you can go from a subject to another this fast.” You stared at him, wondering how the _fuck_ his mind had traveled so far in such a short amount of time, and gave up on trying to understand it.

And you couldn’t tell exactly why, but your heart took this opportunity to leap inside your chest so abruptly you thought you were about to black out. Now _this_ sounded more like an adventure.

So you both took off, hand in hand, running towards the staircase you had found earlier. The forest seemed to become darker and darker as the seconds went by, surrounding you like tourists around an animal enclosure at the zoo. You felt like you were being watched, but the adrenaline rushing through you prevented your anxieties from making their way into your brain.

Upon arriving at the undeniably eerie set of stairs, your breathing came to a painful halt. Heart still drumming ardently inside your paralyzed body, you had to count the seconds in order to calm yourself down.

Michael, on the other hand, looked positively excited, filled with childlike glee to the brim. His blue eyes shined like the full moon on a clear sky.

“This time we should jump.” He suggested, taking your hand in his one more time and squeezing it.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to get my ass busted. Not right now.”

He laughed, dragging you along towards the steps. “It will be okay. Trust me. I promise it’s going to be fun.”

Between staying behind in a dark forest with hungry animals and jumping off a very high spot with zero chances of coming out unharmed, you picked the latter, knowing you were much too scared of being alone to let him go by himself. So you both climbed the steps, slowly but steadily, and when you reached the top, Michael pulled you into a tight embrace.

“Just close your eyes and breathe in.” He whispered against your hair, tickling your scalp with his breath. “I swear you won’t get hurt.”

So you decided to trust him – as you had done several times before – and shut your eyes tightly, drawing in a sharp breath and letting him lean over the edge.

“Ready?”

“Absolutely not.” You huffed, eyes squeezed so tensely you started seeing little stars.

Though Michael gave you no warning when he decided to tilt both of your bodies completely, and in less than a second you were falling, air rushing all around you as the ground grew closer and closer and you had opened your mouth to scream but…

You weren’t falling. No, not anymore. This wasn’t what falling felt like, and your mind took its sweet time wrapping itself around that fact. You fought the urge to keep your eyes sealed, and slowly opened them, only to find yourself sitting on a soft mattress.

As you took in your surroundings, a shy gasp fluttered out of your lips, matching the wide-eyed gaze that had etched itself on your features: you and Michael were sitting atop a bed in what looked like a small, cozy cabin. Like the ones your family visited during the summer when you were a child; and eerily so.

“Where…” You breathed, unable to finish your question.

“I took the liberty to look around your childhood memories and recreate the cabin you stayed at when you were eight. The one in Juniper Lake. Remember?” His face was soft and tender and you felt like crying.

“Yeah.” You muttered, voice heavy with an unbearable mixture of nostalgia, exhaustion, and affection. “That was my favourite.”

“I figured. Lots of good memories attached to it when I ventured inside that pretty little mind of yours.” He kissed your forehead, and sprawled himself across the bed like a ragdoll.

You did the same, and stared at the wooden ceiling. “How did we get here?”

“Well, the staircase listens to what you want the most, and depending on how badly you want it, it chooses to get you there or not.”

“I guess one of us wanted a bed pretty badly, then.”

Michael laughed, his melodic voice a wave of relief for your tired head, and you relished the feeling of being at peace.

“I think so.” He inched closer, arm wrapping around your stomach as he nuzzled your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin. Like water in a kettle, you boiled over the edge, steam screeching from your clamoring beast of a heart.

That got you wound up incredibly fast. So fast that you didn’t even realize your hand had traveled to the hem of his shirt and your fingers were already tracing his taut abs. Michael, however, clearly found it amusing that he had you putty in his hands, and took the opportunity to climb on top of you. He continued to kiss you, but made a detour to your breasts, eliciting a yearning sigh from you.

You hadn’t noticed how much your body had been longing for him. It finally came to your attention when you felt warmth pooling in your stomach as Michael pressed his thigh against your core.

“God…” You mumbled, mind growing hazy.

Michael replied by shaking his head vehemently. “Haven’t we gone through this already…?” He kissed your hand, slowly, eyes focused only on the skin right in front of him. “Maybe you’re a little confused. Should I remind you of who _I_ _am_?”

Your skin vibrated as if you had been struck by lightning.

_Yes. Yes, you should._

He smiled, and started working on the buttons on your jeans, but you were quickly reminded of the fact that you had not showered for the past day and a half, and suddenly you were pulling your legs back. This resulted in a very startled Michael, and a very blushed you.

His eyes looked ready to pop off. “Did I do something wrong?”

You sighed and shook your head, frustrated and angry and so very… _horny_. “I haven’t showered.”

“I…don’t exactly see that as a problem.”

You shrugged, pursing your lips. “I understand that you’re about to burst if you don’t get laid but I really… _really_ need a shower.” You looked around. “Does this place have a bathroom?”

Michael still sat there, dumbfounded. “What?”

“Bathroom. Yes, or no?”

“I, uh…” He trailed off, seemingly unsure of what to say to you. “If you think of something very specific before opening a door it should be there on the other side…”

So you hummed in appreciation, and headed towards the door beside the bed where Michael, unable to move a muscle, still sat. Upon reaching for the doorknob, all you could think of was a nice rain shower and high quality shampoo. How much you missed the feeling of complete cleanliness, of purity – even though you were far from pure at the moment.

When you opened the door, the utter satisfaction of finding exactly what you had imagined got you giggling helplessly, eyes beaming like an elated child who just found out Santa is, in fact, real. The shower tiles were of a luscious dark green that glowed like emerald in the soft light that bathed the room, and felt cold against your fingertips as you softly drew patterns on the wall.

“Please tell me that you’re going to join me.” You turned back to Michael, your eyes shining and begging him to come.

He smiled, feigning defeat, and walked into the bathroom with you. And to be quite honest, you had not anticipated the awkwardness that would arise from silently removing your clothes at the same time. Well, you had only done that in a rush, and amid a considerable amount of noise, so this was strange territory.

Michael was the first to laugh at the clumsiness of the situation, and you couldn’t help but join him. It truly was awkward; you had never felt more like a graceless teenager in your entire life. It seemed like neither of you could contain the silly smiles and giddy laughter.

“It’s weird that I’m not ripping your clothes off.” Michael joked. You shoved him gently, rolling your eyes. It felt good to be able to banter like this again, without fearing for your life.

You turned the tap, watching as warm water began to cascade right in front of you, and instant serenity came pouring over

“It is, but at least we’re both naked now.” Your remark had him grinning and lingering his gaze on your breasts, drinking in the sight of the tiny droplets that gathered on your skin.

You both walked into the gentle waterfall at the same time, letting the warmth engulf you and lovingly tend to your aching muscles like an attentive mother.  
  
You picked up a soap bar and brought it to your nose. Lavender and chamomile. There were small chunks of dried lavender in it, and you felt like you were an elegant movie star.  
  
As you scrubbed yourself clean, Michael watched, pupils blown wide by an outrageous amount of lust. You wondered quietly if he actually intended to do any showering, but didn’t think too much about it.  
  
“This feels fucking great.” You breathed, eyes closing as you felt the tension your body had been holding fade into the void. The stress, anxiety, absolute fear that had taken over the past few days were beginning to take a toll on you. This, on the other hand, was the most satisfying thing you could take indulgence in, and you wished it could last forever.  
  
You were brought back to the present when Michael kissed your cheek softly, and his hands found your waist. “I can think of something even fucking greater.”  
  
You opened your eyes, taking in the absolutely devastating beauty of the man who stood in front of you. His eyelashes were darker and longer from the contact with water, his wet hair pushed back. Eyes glistening as he looked into yours, a predator ready to pounce. Maybe you could indulge in this, as well.  
  
“You’re irresistible.” He whispered, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth and pulling softly, and it sent a violent bolt of electricity through you. It seemed like it would always faze you that he could do such things to you without even trying.  
  
“Why resist, in the first place?”  
  
His laugh was more like a hum, low and raw and drenched in honey. “You’re right. I won’t.”  
  
And immediately Michael dropped to his knees, and pushed you against the wall. The cold tiles felt strangely comfortable, soothing and slick. He propped one of your legs over his shoulder, giving him access to where you wanted him the most.  
  
And Lord, was it a fucking sight to behold. His eyes fell shut as he pressed his mouth to your core, tongue exploring the area languidly, which had you squirming and gasping faster than you expected. You wanted to watch, you wanted to keep this memory imprinted in your mind, but your eyelids fluttered shut under his touch.  
  
When one of his fingers circled around your entrance, Michael paused for a second, looking up at you.  
  
“Can I?”  
  
You nodded firmly, desperate to find out what it felt like to have his fingers inside you. And he obliged, dipping into you leisurely, eliciting a series of whimpers from your mouth. Michael was an inferno, and you were being reduced to ashes in the most delicate way possible.  
  
“Tight.” He murmured, and then added a second finger before going back to his main course. Your head was spinning.  
  
You moaned loudly, a hand flying to his wet hair and digging into his locks as the other rested against the wall for support. It felt heavenly, it felt natural, it felt perfect.  
  
He moved his fingers carefully until he found your crowning glory; one single curl of them and you were reduced to powerful moans and trembling legs and incomprehensible whispers leaking from your quivering lips.  
  
“How the _fuck_ do you expect me to last...” You huffed, breathlessly. You could feel an earth-shattering release just waiting around the corner.  
  
“I don’t.” Michael retorted, eyebrows raising as he looked up at you and immodestly dragged his tongue across your core. “I absolutely do not.”  
  
But just because he could, he chose to deny you that pleasure, hastily getting up and leaving you astounded. You wanted to yell at him to come back, but were too thrown off to do anything, let alone form a proper sentence.  
  
“I-what?” You shrieked, eyebrows merging into one.  
  
Michael shook his head in disapproval. “You’re so impatient.”  
  
You realized he had other plans in mind when he grabbed the same thigh and lifted it to his waist, wrapping his arm around it and cupping your ass.  
  
Slowly, Michael entered you, giving you no chance to complain as he began thrusting, and that position allowed him to hit all the great spots.  
  
As expected, you were a blabbering puddle of indecency. Your moans became louder and more frequent as he drove into you harder, and you considered yourself lucky to be in such a secret place. If that hadn’t been the case, the whole neighborhood would have started complaining.  
  
His groans and gasps hadn’t gone unnoticed by you. It drove you absolutely crazy to hear those sounds slipping from his full lips, as if his pace wasn’t unforgiving enough. You were a mess, and you fucking loved it. You wanted to become wilder and wilder in his hands.

  
His grip on your thigh grew tighter when he sped up, and that had you both panting vigorously between wet kisses. As sloppy as they had grown, you simply could not stop tasting his lips on yours.  
  
“Oh, fuck, fuck!...” You moaned, breath escaping you like a demon runs from holy water.  
  
“You’re driving me mad.” Michael whispered, and then settled for a merciless pace that planted a hurricane inside your feeble body, devouring every ounce of self-control and dignity.  
  
With a swift movement of his arm, Michael grabbed your other thigh, lifting you into the air before your legs wrapped around him. It made him go so much deeper that you screamed, tipping your head backwards against the cold tiles.

“Holy fuck, yes!” You groaned, unable to stifle the series of cries that echoed inside the dimly lit bathroom.  
  
His firm grip on your ass helped him find the perfect speed, and soon enough you noticed his breathing had become more labored as he approached his climax. The exhilaration of knowing you were about to watch him come undone had you teetering between letting go and holding on in order to pay close attention to the details on his face.

  
And because of the previous ministrations, you realized you were about to come, as well.  
  
“Fuck, darling, I...” He mumbled, but you silenced him by pressing your lips to his. There was no need for talking. You just wanted to see him come undone violently, like you could tell he would.  
  
Your wishes were granted a few seconds later as he finished, moaning loudly. A single final thrust and you reached your peak, too, collapsing against the slippery tiles and flopping gracelessly to the floor.

”You didn’t even shower.” 

Michael laughed, tipping his head back and squinting. 

“Maybe I should.”

You pinched his arm, causing him to flick your thigh in response. “You stink.”

He snorted, and kissed your cheek. “You still love it. And me. Stinky and demonic and _yours_.”

  
And a few minutes later, when Michael finally finished washing himself, you found yourselves sitting quietly on the wet shower floor, incapable of moving a single muscle, and happier than you had ever been. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> geyser, by mitski.  
> i have some news, by the way! i have decided to work under a pseudonym now (call me nell!) and i made an entirely different blog specifically for writing stuff and interacting with people who like that!  
> my new blog is @tillthelastbelltolls


	15. Forgotten Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i've been taking too long to post new chapters, and i'm so sorry! i just started babysitting for like 3 different families at once and almost every single one of my weekdays is filled with screaming children and having to play pretend. for this reason, i've decided to make my chapters longer (a sort of compensation for your patience!)
> 
> thank you so much for sticking with me through this whirlwind of a fic. enjoy the major twist!

You were both lying in bed, naked, and completely drained of energy. Your fingertips drew tiny shivers from the skin between Michael’s shoulder blades, tracing the shape of angel wings.

Michael, _archangel_.

The vivid memory of that sleepover crashing into your mind once more. Michael, archangel, leader of heavenly armies against Satan’s forces. You imagined what his wings would have looked like if he were an angel: titanic, exuberant. They would unfold from his back and keep unfolding until your eyes could see no more. Powerful, capable of causing hurricanes, sweeping through whole countries and reducing them to dust.

Oh, the irony of it all. Michael wanted to defeat that part of him that he hated so much, and perhaps that was his battle. His own war to fight. However, you refused to let him march into it by himself, and so did the other witches. No man fights alone. Not even the most powerful man on Earth.

“I’m too tired to understand the insanity that is going on inside your head, but I do need to ask…” Michael yawned, rubbing his eyes. “…what the fuck?”

You laughed, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “Grumpy much? You sound like a toddler.”

“I feel like one.”

A slight frown etched itself onto your previously smiling face. “Why’s that?” You brushed his hair away from his eyes, looking for answers in those beautiful blue gems; still, you found them foggy.

“Helpless. Useless.” He confessed, staring at the ceiling. “Like I can’t do anything to save myself from becoming the purest form of evil.”

Your heart broke into millions of pieces. “Michael, listen.” One of your hands softly held his chin and brought his face towards your own. “First of all, you are not alone in this. We’re all here to help you, and it’s because of you and the fate of the planet. Second of all, your father is powerful. In fact, we probably aren’t aware of half his powers, and it’s normal to be afraid! We’re fighting the unknown with nearly zero preparation, if you weren’t at least a little bit scared I’d say you’re a major idiot.”

“But why can’t I fight him by myself?”

You grabbed his hand, kissing his palm. “Because that’s just not possible. Ever seen one soldier win a war against an entire army? Or one single raindrop put out a forest fire? It doesn’t work like that, you need people, you need help. And you’re far from helpless.”

“Thank you. You do so much for me.” Michael closed his eyes, pulling your hand to his lips. “I wish I wasn’t this cursed. I wish I could be a normal person.”

“But I don’t want that. I don’t want normal. To live a boring life, with boring people, would be to waste it completely. Besides, normality is subjective: to me, you’re just a little bit…eccentric.”

He chuckled, and looked at you with obvious tenderness on his ravishing features. “A little weird?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. You and that infuriating attitude of yours.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “When we get back to the headquarters, I’ll make sure we all sit down to discuss our plans. I think that we will find a way out of this for you. I can’t promise _that_ , but what I can promise you is that I’ll try my absolute hardest, and won’t stop trying unless I burn to dust.”

“I’ll hog every fire extinguisher in a five mile radius.” He winked, and your heart melted on sight.

You took a deep breath, knowing you’d both have to go back soon. “I just really hope that things go right. I barely found out about your existence, I don’t want it stolen from me. There has to be a way for us to terminate this evil.”

Michael simply stared, eyebrows raised with unmistakable anxiety. “Can you defeat evil without becoming evil?”

You felt a slight sensation of whiplash; as unpredictable as Michael could be, that question had caught you completely off guard. You suddenly became aware of the increasing dryness of your throat, and how particularly hard swallowing had become. And that was when you found yourself wishing you had all the answers in the world.

“My destructive tendencies will probably end up taking over. I’m afraid I might lose control when the time comes. Or even worse, what happens if I get possessed again? You’ve seen what it looks like, and you’ve seen what I can do. If I lay a hand on you I’ll never forgive myself.”

The tightness in your lungs skyrocketed. Oh, yes, you remembered what it looked like. His soulless white eyes, staring deep into you, carving into your chest to remove the heart and devour it. How his bones, crackling like tinder and newspaper inside a fireplace. The total absence of warmth on his skin.

“Look, right now I don’t know how to help you with that.” You confessed, finding the courage and energy to speak again, even though your traumatic memories threatened to dig their teeth into your flesh. “But we can work on it. We can practice, and learn more about it, and I’m sure at least something will become easier. I haven’t known you long enough to understand the inner workings of your mind or soul, but I want to help, and I’ll do what I can. Remember, you don’t have to do any of this alone.”

Just as you finished talking, Michael grabbed your face hastily and crashed into your lips, kissing like there was an oasis in your mouth and he had been walking through the desert for days. You hummed, feeling his fingers tangle into your hair, and static seemed to fill the atmosphere. 

He broke off the kiss to quickly tidy up, kissing you one more time before he got off the bed and walked towards the door opposite to the bathroom.

“This is our way out.” Michael nodded towards the closed door, and you groaned, throwing yourself dramatically onto the bed once more. “And I’m afraid we might need to go back now.”

“No!” You moaned out with frustration, and your face contorted itself into a childish frown. “Please, let’s just stay here.”

Michael sighed loudly, but his smile betrayed him, creeping up the sides of his perfect, full lips. You’d only leave the bed if it was to kiss him again.

“Why are you such a child?” He chuckled, and then picked you up effortlessly. You yelped, and tried to seem mad, but were unable to hold back your laughter. You couldn’t see it, but you heard the sound of a creaky doorknob turning, and in a matter of milliseconds you were back at the top of the staircase.

The smell of the trees and the birds chirping on the treetops was unmistakable. Still, you hadn’t fully taken in what had just happened, and it felt like someone had socked you in the head. There had been no transition between the cabin and the real world, and your poor inexperienced brain was doing laps around the moon at the speed of light as Michael carefully carried you down the stairs.

You looked up at the sky, which was still dark, and wondered if time had even passed. When Michael put you down, he finally seemed to notice the baffled expression on your face, and found it very funny.

“Am I a decent source of entertainment?” You snapped, but your indignation proved to be futile: Michael was laughing even harder, and his eyes had started to squint. And that was it. You couldn’t be mad anymore; not when he looked like a fucking angel.

“Yes. You’re grumpy and confused and adorable and I just want to smother you.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Huh?”

“With kisses.” Michael replied, giving your lips a small peck. You only huffed in response. “I think we should get going. They’re probably waiting for us.”

You started walking back to the house, hand clasped around his, breathing in the scent of the night.

“How long were we gone for?”

“About…an hour?”

You blinked incredulously at him. “What? There’s no way we were there for only an hour. I feel like we spent at least five or six hours in the cabin.”

“Time flows differently in staircase dimensions.” He explained, as if that was the most trivial subject he could think of. There was almost a hint of indifference in his voice.

You simply nodded, humming as if you had understood what had been said, and continued walking in silence. The turmoil in your mind refused to die out.

“I really do hope we can find a cure for this disease.” Michael broke the quiet, voice slithering around you like a soft breeze.

You sighed deeply, pouting. “Me too. It’s been really hard watching it eat away at you.”

“Ironically enough, that’s exactly what it all feels like.” He smiled bitterly, combing his hair with his fingers. “Like something’s eating me from the inside out.”

You watched as he shed a silent tear and wiped it away quickly; a failed attempt to hide his profound sorrow from you. As if you hadn’t experienced it first-hand. As if you hadn’t been there to pick up his broken pieces and put a smile back on his beautiful face.

“You can cry, you know.” You bumped into him gently, grabbing his drifting attention. “I’ve seen you do it before. It’s not a surprise.”

Michael chuckled, and threw an arm around you, pulling you closer.

“I don’t mind crying in front of you. It’s not you I’m wary of.”

You frowned. He noticed it and breathed out air that seemed to have been trapped inside his lungs for ages.

“The witches aren’t exactly who I wanted to be working with.” He confessed, looking down. You were approaching the back of the house, and could hear faint conversation coming from the kitchen.

“How so?”

“Well, I want to trust them. Believe me, I really do.” He paused to fidget with a necklace you hadn’t noticed before. “But I’m afraid they might betray me. Betray the both of us.”

“Michael, I’m one of them. I can tell that this is not a ploy to trap you, or get rid of you. All they- _we_ want, is to save the coven from being bombed into the ground.”

He carefully tucked the necklace back inside his shirt, ignoring the fact that you were staring unabashedly, trying to figure out where it had come from, and what it meant.

“I hope you’re right.”

When you both finally arrived at the house, the atmosphere shifted. The witches had lit up rows upon rows of candles, and had reorganized the main entrance with tables and shelves they had found in the many rooms that the house tried to conceal.

You and Michael were astonished by their work: Misty was going around, frantically hanging several vines and dried herbs from every nook and cranny she could find. Zoe and Mallory swept the floor, cleaning up the area to make it look more liveable. Madison, albeit clearly annoyed by her task, organized books, cauldrons, ingredients, and several jars of god knows what, placing them onto the tables. Myrtle played a theremin, which you had never seen in real life, and did it with such grace that you almost found yourself enjoying the incredibly obnoxious sound it emitted.

The only one you could not find was Cordelia.

“Hey there, Satan.” Nodded Madison, mischievous smile showing her impossibly white teeth. She then turned to you. “Satan’s concubine.”

You raised an eyebrow at her teasing. You saw Michael pinch the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes tightly. Madison looked thoroughly please with herself.

“Do shut up, my dear.” Myrtle contributed, still flailing her arms above the insufferably loud instrument. You wondered if she would be too mad if you axed it.

“Where’s Cordelia?” You asked, staring at Madison.

She shot you an irritated look. “Why the fuck am I supposed to know?”

“Madison, why are you like this?” Mallory snapped, hitting the bratty witch's thigh with her broom.

“In the kitchen.” Zoe replied to your question, and then impetuously snatched Madison’s unlit cigarette from her mouth. “No smoking inside. Who knows how long until you set the house on fire.”

Madison rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the books she needed to place in the selves. Michael tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and you turned to face him.

“I’m very tired. I think I’m gonna go upstairs and sleep for a while.”

You kissed his cheek and fixed his hair, mouthing a sweet ‘good night’, and soon he was on his way. You had advised him to rest earlier, but he only seemed to have listened when he realized he’d have to interact with a group of easily excitable witches.

So you walked to the kitchen, eager to talk to Cordelia about your experience. You found her stirring a large pot, humming a song that sounded a lot like Ella Fitzgerald’s Cheek to Cheek. There was a chopping board full of freshly picked – freshly _conjured_ – vegetables to her right. Her blond hair had been tied up, showing a considerable amount of skin. You noticed a small tattoo of an eye on the back of her neck, but ultimately decided not to mention it.

“Hungry?” Cordelia inquired as you approached her. You looked into the pot, and felt your stomach rumble at the sight of her rich stew. She laughed softly at the sound, making your cheeks blush. “I guess I have my answer. But I feel like you’re here to talk about something, isn’t that right?”

“I find it rather scary that you can see through me like this.” You confessed, hopping onto the counter, legs dangling in front of the drawers.

Cordelia smiled, gathering a handful of sliced carrots and carefully dropping it into the pot, which she then continued to stir. “I bet you can see through other people, as well. Misty told me you found out about us earlier.”

Your eyes widened at her comment, and your face reddened ever further. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, it was just a hunch and there was a voice inside my head and-”

“It’s okay.” Cordelia laughed again, placing a hand on your knee. The wrinkles beside her eyes when she laughed were one of the most endearing things you had ever seen, and it was hard to remain scared of a woman with a smile like hers. “Misty’s just not ready to tell everyone yet, but I feel like having an ally made her feel much safer.”

You felt a powerful stream of warmth pouring into you and making your skin tingle. The idea of delivering comfort to a person within an already established group had you oscillating between crying the happiest of tears and rushing in for a tight hug.

“I can sense some pretty strong emotions in you, as well.” Cordelia continued, resting the wooden spoon against the edge of the pot. She reduced the heat and turned to face you. “Conflicting emotions.”

You found yourself shifting uncomfortably under her knowing gaze. Although you couldn’t tell exactly what she was referring to, you knew it was something about you and Michael, and you also knew you were judged intensely by the entire coven for being with an obvious and _dangerous_ adversary.

“Is this about Michael?”

“Yes, that too.”

You felt your eyebrows furrowing together. That _too_? What was the other half of it?

“I’m sorry…what?” You stammered, breath hitching. A strange feeling crept into the room, much like a sinister presence, and trapped you to the counter.

Cordelia looked just as confused as you were. “Did you not realize your heart is torn?”

“Torn?” You echoed, a rash and skeptical tone wrapping itself around your words. “Between what?”

“Michael. And Mallory.”

Your stomach sank beneath the earth. You thought you were about to reach the magma shell. Heart hammering against your chest and breath blown from your lungs with violence, you blinked a few times, attempting to regain composure.

“What…makes you…say that?” You breathed out incoherently, and realized you were able to feel your heartbeat on your throat and fingertips.

Cordelia’s expression was set somewhere in the middle of flustered and thrilled.

“The heart is a cruel enchantress, dear. She won’t take your decisions into consideration before leaping into an abyss. In your case, Mallory is the abyss.”

You took in her words slowly and uneasily, unable to suppress a loud gasp when you noticed your heartbeat picking up in pace as you thought about Mallory. The whole thing felt like trying to read a convoluted paragraph in a chemistry thesis; something that puzzled you so deeply you couldn’t even begin to fathom it.

Mallory. Her sweet almond eyes. Soft waves draping over delicate shoulders. Husky voice a song to your heart.

“Can you feel it?” Cordelia rested her hand on your shoulder reassuringly.

You gulped, throat having gone dry. “Yes.”

“It might be nothing. It might be simply platonic. But I feel like you two are _anima_ _vinctum_.” She seemed to notice the evident confusion on your face. “Soul bound. Like the idea of soulmates, except it’s a little more complicated than that. You are bound to each other the second you become a human being, deep in your mother’s womb, and you are destined to meet and complete the binding with time.”

“Does this mean I’m bound to her romantically?” You whispered, unaware of how quiet you had gone.

Cordelia pursed her lips momentarily. “That’s where it gets so complex. You have to find out by yourself. Unfortunately, as much as I want to help, I’m afraid it will be no use; I cannot feel what you feel.”

But what about Michael? What about the all-encompassing love you felt for him? The promises, the secrets, the voluntary soul binding between the both of you?

“And Michael…” You wondered, eyes glazed over.

“You shouldn’t let a person stand in the way of your destiny. Besides, you might realize she’s only a very good friend.” Cordelia tried to comfort you, and turned back around to tend to her stew. “However, if things escalate between you, maybe you’ll have to make some difficult decisions. But everything will be alright. Just take it slowly, let your heart speak and guide you. After all, you can trust yourself more than anyone else.”

You slid off the counter, head still hazy with way too many thoughts to bear. “How can I be sure that we’re soul bound?”

Cordelia paused for a second, a pinch of salt hovering above the pot as she thought about your question, back still turned to you. “There’s a spell. I can’t quite remember how to perform it, but Zoe knows lots about our books, and she can point you in the right direction. I do need to finish dinner, my dear, or Madison will slit all of our throats. She tends to get very angry when she’s hungry.”

You had already made your way out of the kitchen, leaving Cordelia talking to herself, but the Supreme did not seem to notice at all. The candlelit hallway led you to the dining room, which had previously been a dusty, filthy lounging area. The fireplace had been crackled back to life by Misty, who now tossed tinder into the flames, and Zoe sat on the nearest couch, curled into herself and nose deep into a book.

You began to make your way to her, but a hand suddenly seized yours, pulling you around on your feet. You twirled only to find Mallory’s face mere inches from yours, and your heart made an herculean effort not to leap out of your throat.

“Hi there.” She whispered, her warm breath eliciting the gentlest of shivers from you as it touched your lips.

You struggled to find the courage to answer. “Hi.”

She smirked, and your stomach dropped an entire flight of stairs. You hoped to the heavens this was just a result of your eagerness to discover the veracity of Cordelia’s words _. Please don’t let me be in love with two people at the same time._

That was when it hit you that you were still holding her hand, and to your horror, you remembered about the mind connection you both shared. You suddenly felt the urge to vomit.

“Calm down.” Mallory giggled, trying to be quiet. “I have been thinking about it, too. Cordelia talked to me earlier.”

You felt an unfamiliar sense of peace washing over you and dissolving the fulminating embarrassment that had started to form within your soul. Her hand lightly squeezed yours, and you were unable to conceal a smile.

“I don’t want to perform the spell. I want to get shitfaced and celebrate what’s possibly gonna be the last night before we have to face our impending doom. We can figure out this whole _anima_ _vinctum_ situation later.”

You laughed, nodding firmly. “I’m in.”

Mallory intertwined her fingers with yours, and soon enough you two were disappearing into the darkness of the basement stairs, where she claimed she’d found ‘enough booze to make a whole village sleep’.

You would had never imagined the consequences of doing so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgotten love, by aurora. 
> 
> okay so, before anyone comes for my ass saying "this is a michael/reader fic, not a mallory/reader fic you've tricked us and i'm leaving", i want to make sure everyone knows that  
> a) everything will be okay. you'll end up with michael  
> b) 'tis simply a twist. just breathe, my dearest
> 
> anyway. last chapter was quiet as a graveyard so if you don't mind giving me some feedback, i'd appreciate it immensely! also, please check out my new blog where i'll post updates about this fic and give writing advice - and also take some requests: @tillthelastbelltolls
> 
> love you all!


	16. Blood Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry, dear readers. i feel so bad for not posting, but i've been going through a rough patch recently. not to share way too much, but i've been having boyfriend problems: as in, he used to care and now doesn't. how very sweet, right? this, unfortunately, hindered my ability to write about Michael, seeing as he started to remind me of him. anyway, we're back to our regular scheduled Thirsting! to any new readers: welcome! it's a wild place here.

The basement was dark, damp, and very cold. You crossed your arms, tightly holding onto warmth as well as you could, and walked around, taking in the exuberant detail of the room. The walls were made of what looked like ebony, and the smell of aging wine was heavenly. You kept exploring, slowly, admiring everything with care and interest.

Mallory, on the other hand, was skipping around enthusiastically, babbling about how she’d found bottles upon bottles of absinthe and intended to get so drunk she would blackout. You half followed her excitement; the other half was too engulfed by exhaustion.

Your day had truly been a whirlwind: first you’d been to a peculiar place, an entirely new dimension. Then you had the breath knocked out of you repeatedly: first by Michael, in the cabin shower. Then by Cordelia, in the kitchen. Then Mallory, when you unintentionally shared your mind’s contents with her. As a consequence, you were drained. And so ready to indulge in some drinking.

“I was thinking about lighting up some of these candles over here. Do you think it will create a nice atmosphere, or is it gonna be too romantic?” Mallory crouched, blowing a considerable layer of dust off the top of the candles.

You stood still, disarmed by her absurd levity concerning the problem at hand. Obviously, this problem was not the candles.

“Sure. I like candles.” You replied, attempting to dismiss the growing turmoil in your mind. You watched as her face grew annoyed.

“I thought you wanted to have fun.” Mallory poked your stomach, pouting. You felt bad for not being as thrilled as she was, and offered her a pitiful attempt at a smile.

You got lost in thought once more, and failed to notice the glass full of absinthe she was holding out to you. Your head cleared immediately when the pungent smell of alcohol seeped into your nostrils, waking up every nerve in your body.

“Oh, holy shit. This is strong.” You observed, earning a laugh from Mallory. She had a full glass to herself as well, and a look of exhilaration in her glowing eyes. “Bottoms up, I guess.”

“You’re brave!” She tried to warn you, but it was too late: you had chugged half the content of the glass, and your throat started to burn severely. You felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you coughed hard enough to expel a demon.

“Why did I do that?” You breathed out, closing your eyes tightly as you began to feel the ominous beginnings of intoxication, manifesting inside your now dizzying head, and flowing into your legs, that had already begun to lose balance. Your muscles were melting around the bone.

Mallory was reduced to nothing but laughter, having downed more than enough of her glass herself. “I don’t know!”

You began to laugh as well, skin bubbling with ecstasy. “God, I see why this used to be illegal. It probably killed tons of unsuspecting folk who imagined it would only give them a slight buzz.”

“I have to admit, you speak very well for someone who’s already _fucked_.” Mallory laughed, grabbing your hand clumsily. “I made us a little snuggle pit.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that could make her statement clearer to you. “You made a what, now?”

She giggled, now pulling you around a corner and into a small secluded nook where she had placed several blankets and pillows, and a fair amount of assorted snacks. You wondered how she managed to find time for all of this. You also wondered if there had been any second or third intentions behind this.

“And you thought the candles would be too romantic?” You blurted out, unable to stifle a loud chuckle that almost bent you over and onto the floor.

Mallory blushed, jokingly punching your arm. “It isn’t meant to be like that. I just wanted us to have a party. Like a sleepover, kinda.”

“So you don’t believe we’re like, romantic soulmates?”

She shrugged. “How can I know? I just know that you love Michael. The thought of eloping with you to get married in the woods doesn’t really cross my mind.”

This time, you fell. Pure, sincere laughter tore through your tired limbs, throwing you onto the pile of blankets. The slight scent of cinnamon mixed with alcohol emanated from the blankets.

“Yeah, I know, I dropped an entire bottle of Fireball whiskey there once. Still can’t get the smell out. And god, I’ve fucking tried.”

You blinked a few times, unable to process the information. Another sip of your drink made its way to your lips, and you instantly felt regret rushing in along with the absinthe, knowing your brain was not going to function much longer if you kept sipping.

“I’m so glad we can joke about this.” You felt yourself slurring. “About the ‘animal’ _vinctum_.”

Mallory snorted loudly, tilting her head to the side. “ _Anima_?”

“Yes, that.” You grunted, heat rising to your cheeks, and she broke into delicious laughter. Even though you were already drunk, you still managed to register the strong notes of embarrassment.  Still, her laughter was enchanting enough to make you forget about the awkwardness.

Mallory flopped beside you, stretching her legs and arms and invading your space purposely. You swatted her away, still giggling, and she smiled. You noticed a lovely glow spreading through her cheeks.

“Of course we can joke about it. We’re soul sisters.” She turned to lie on her side, eyes so full of desire to cause trouble, yet so very tender at the same time.

“Soul sisters?” You began, and somehow you were able to tell your next words would stir problem into the brew, but the absinthe had rendered you reckless. So you continued. “Already ruling out the possibility of romance, Mal?”

Your body cramped with discomfort when you realized how awkward your whole speech had been. First you had implied there was a shot at an affair between the both of you. Then you called her ‘Mal’. _What the fuck was I thinking?_

Mallory simply stared at you, wide-eyed, mouth slightly agape. You mentally berated yourself, an acute desire to run off and away from her almost taking over your whole body. It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable because of her presence. No, not that. You were uncomfortable because you didn’t know what your drunk self would pull.

“I…thought you were against that.” She mumbled, her words barely audible. You suddenly felt a strong surge of energy, and noticed her hand on top of yours; the heat that was flowing from her skin to yours was mesmerizing. It nearly made you forget about the complicated situation unraveling itself right in front of your eyes.

You inhaled sharply, searching for an answer that wouldn’t cause any sort of distress. “How can I be against something that I don’t understand? I want to understand it first.”

Mallory’s hand slowly made its way to your hair, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear, and your heart convulsed inside your chest – Michael always did that. You tried not to scream, not to reveal more than she needed to know, but then remembered that there was no point in hiding things from her. You were both connected: physically and spiritually. She could feel your feelings, even when you hadn’t noticed them yourself, and though that was a special bond, it was absolutely terrifying to you. After all, your mind was a wild beast, and taming it took patience you did not have.

“So do I, but I have no idea how to even start.” Mallory sighed, rubbing her eyes and forehead in frustration. “I’ve never fallen in love before, so I wouldn’t know what it feels like.”

You smiled in sympathy, feeling her grief and hopelessness radiating from the palm of her hand. The short but vile pull in your heart had your head spinning in dangerous circles, wondering if any of this could be more than what you already had.

“You’ll know when it’s time. If you feel like you haven’t figured it out yet, don’t be scared. It’s difficult, and it’s really a matter of luck and time. You’ll be fine.” You squeezed her hand softly, and she smiled. There was a certain shyness there that you hadn’t noticed before. Mallory, shy. A concept so familiar yet so new: she had been everything except for shy from the first sip of absinthe until that very moment.

“What if I’m in love with you?”

Your breath halted in your throat. Oxygen was escaping your grip; you had to consciously remind yourself to inhale and exhale. _God, oh god, what the fuck do I say now?_

“Well…that could be problematic…for a number of reasons.” You whispered, a nervous laugh escaping your mouth. “But the heart wants what it wants. If you feel that way for me, there’s nothing I can do to stop it, Mal.”

This time, she smiled, looking down. Her mind was telling you the she did, in fact, like the new nickname.

“I think there’s a way to figure it out.” She breathed out, pupils dilated. You felt a dramatic shift in the atmosphere, as well as in the energy flow from her skin to yours. Somehow, it started to feel more overwhelming; buzzing, almost. Heavy like lead dripping from dark clouds.

You were drunk, but not stupid. Her silence spoke in thunderstorms. So when her breath hit your lips, it did not surprise you. No, that was expected, that was the way things were supposed to go, even if it terrified you. You had no plan of action, no way of escaping this situation – the alcohol had rooted itself deeply, and you were barely capable of speaking properly, let alone stop her.

And to be fair, you weren’t sure if you wanted to.

You weren’t expecting your universes to collide, but in a way, they did. Mallory’s lips were soft, gentle, and hesitant. You secretly wondered if this was her first kiss, and then hoped to heaven and back that it wasn’t; what if it ended terribly?

“It’s not my first.” She whispered, tickling you, and you had to supress the violent urge to smile.

When she returned to your mouth, a surprised whimper made its way out of your throat, halting at her lips, and dying there – but you did nothing to prevent it from happening. Mallory seemed desperate now, her lips moving frantically against yours, and you brought a hand to her cheek to soothe her. She licked your lower lip slowly, head moving to the side to find a better position. Putting puzzle pieces together. The coil in your stomach tightened; last time you had kissed a girl like that, the night ended with your very first orgasm. The idea of fucking someone else right under Michael’s nose was far from appealing, and hoped she couldn’t hear any of that.  
  
Although kissing her was very pleasant, and that you had to admit, it failed to create the same sort of connection you felt with Michael. Maybe because you were both bound on several levels, you felt each other too much. You noticed this when an unwelcome rush of anxiety flooded your senses; that hadn’t been you. You were willing to ignore it until the tug at your stomach became truly uncomfortable.

“Mal.”

She paused, then broke off the kiss, cheeks growing crimson. There was a profound sense of shame, confusion, and irreparable disappointment in her beautiful brown eyes.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I thought I was feeling something there but then it faded, and it scared me. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Her voice grew quiet, and then drifted off.

You smiled, running your fingers through her hair, untangling the knots, curling the ends around your fingertips, and watched as she sighed almost completely quietly under your gentle touch. Her breathing became steady again, and her lips stopped quivering.

“Don’t apologize. I know you didn’t mean it.” She smiled bitterly, and you gently caressed her cheek. Her skin was unusually warm, and it only made you want to keep touching her. “So…it wasn’t what you were expecting?”

Mallory closed her eyes. “It was a very good kiss, don’t get me wrong. But I just…couldn’t feel the pull.”

You hummed in agreement, and tapped her cheek softly. She finally seemed to be able to look in your eyes again. “Let’s sleep. It’s very late and we’re going to have a long day tomorrow. And I would absolutely hate to know that you were up all night because of me.”

Mallory’s eyes sparkled for a second, and your heart grew in size. Such a tender creature, such a lovely mess. For a second there, you desperately wished you could have given her what she wanted – and deserved. “You don’t feel awkward? You know, being around me and all?”

“Of course not! You’re my soulmate. I’d never feel uncomfortable with you. Even if you do something to make me upset me on purpose, I’ll never let you drift away from me. Besides, it’s been ages since the last time I’ve had a best friend.”

Mallory smiled, and a wave of relief seemed to wash over her. “You don’t mind having kissed your best friend, then?”

You giggled, swatting her lightly, and she laughed in return. “It just makes me feel closer to you. And if we end up kissing every time we get drunk, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“For someone who claims to be in love with the Antichrist, you really appear to have a thing for witches.”

You snorted, and soon enough you were both breaking into violent laughter, followed by her trying to tickle your stomach. You were squealing, tears leaking from your eyes, cheeks flushed and a light sensation in your heart.

“Making out does not necessarily have to be romantic, Mal! Stop it!” You screamed, as she laughed and tickled you even more. Merciless, that girl. Absolutely perverted.

“How do you think Michael will feel when he finds out that he lost his girl to a Supreme in training? Good?”

Your eyes widened at her words. “Supreme?”

Mallory nodded slowly and solemnly, a proud grin stretching across her beautiful face. “Cordelia and I have been working on my powers for a few months now. It’s a pretty big deal for us, witches. This means that I’ll be your next Supreme.” She winked, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Does that also mean you’ll be bossing me around when the time comes?” You poked her arm, earning a gentle pinch to the cheek in return.

“I’ll boss you around whenever I please. I can start now.” Mallory rapidly plucked the drink out of your hand, leaving you frowning and incredulous. “No more drinking for you, missy. We need to sleep.”

You huffed, but stopped there. You knew how much you both needed to rest after that long day of incantations, cleaning, and discoveries.

“Who’s the big spoon?” She asked, fluffing the pillow before throwing herself onto it without any grace whatsoever.

“You are.” You replied, and her only response was a low groan and a tired eye roll. But there was nothing she could do, because you had already turned your back to her.

She shifted around for a minute or two, pulling the blanket over you and tucking you in carefully before getting under the covers herself. Suddenly, you felt the warmth of her body as she scooted closer to you, throwing an arm around your stomach.

Her chest was touching your shoulder blades, her fingers interlaced with yours, her breathing even and soothing against your back.

“I think the next step is getting friendship bracelets.” Mallory blurted out, voice heavy with sleep and exhaustion.

You only managed to let out a tired laugh, which was followed by a soft chuckle rippling through her body and, consequently, through yours as well.

“Good night, Mal.”

Her response was clear as day: one single soft snore told you that Mallory was already fast asleep, and you couldn’t tell if this had happened because of the alcohol, or because she had the sleep habits of a baby.

But you didn’t have any more time to think about it. Soon after, your own heavy eyelids fell shut, and you drifted off into what was going to be the most peaceful sleep you’d have for days.

And although the sleep was quiet and relaxing, it was cut short by a single tap to your cheek. You opened your eyes to find nothing but complete and absolute darkness, and an unidentifiable silhouette hovering above you.

“Mal, it’s too early, let’s just go back to bed.” You mumbled, words leaving your mouth one by one, unhurried. Your eyes burned from the lack of sleep.

The voice that replied was not Mallory’s. “She’s upstairs. I came to get you, now. Let’s go.”

Michael was now slipping his hands underneath you and carefully lifting you into his strong arms. Your head naturally found its resting spot on the curve of his neck, his pulse point drumming against your forehead, and the sound of his heartbeat nearly lulling you back into peaceful slumber.

“What’s happening?”

He hesitated. “Don’t like basements. That’s all.”

Michael was now climbing the steps that led to the main floor. You could smell his lie like a dog can smell fear; gut instinct screaming that something was wrong, and it was coming to get you, to bite at your ankles until it drew blood.

“Fuck, I may be tired, but I can still tell you’re lying.” You couldn’t hide your anger. And you were upset for a good reason: why on earth would he feel the need to lie to you? After everything you both had been through together?

 “Just a nuisance. Nothing for you to worry about.” Michael muttered, still concealing something from you. You grew frustrated, cheeks flushing and eyebrows knitting. Angry caterpillars.

“You can keep lying to me but I’ll find out eventually. It’s just a matter of time until the truth comes out. So what’s it gonna be?”

Michael’s face showed utter defeat, which meant you had conquered this one, but there was nothing that even resembled victory in you; rather, this felt uncomfortable. Something was really, really wrong.

“They have surrounded the house. On all sides.” Michael breathed out, voice drained from energy. You wondered how long he’d been awake for. “Cordelia and Zoe are guarding the main entrance. Misty and Myrtle are in the back. Madison is casting protection spells on every window. There are a few more witches that arrived here by teleportation a while ago.”

It was a lot to take in, but only one thing remained unanswered. “Where’s Mallory?”

Michael bit his lip, lowering his eyes to the ground, focusing them on a spot next to your feet. “In bed. Upstairs.”

You shivered unpleasantly. Too much information was being left out of the conversation for your liking. “Is she okay? Did anything happen to her?”

He sighed again, and then inhaled deeply before returning his eyes to yours. “I found her wandering the backwoods at early morning, right before dawn. She was in hear underwear, freezing half to death, lips purple and everything. Everyone else was asleep, so I ran out and got her back inside before she went hypothermic.”

Your heart was racing with fear, concern, and anxiety. “What the fuck was going on with her?”

“I have no idea, to be quite honest. Her eyes…” He trailed off, eyes glazed. He’d seen too much. “…They were white. Like mine were, when I became possessed. She was chanting something in a language I couldn’t identify. Then I asked her if that was Mallory and…”

You grew impatient, weight shifting between one leg and the other. “And?”

“Someone else replied. Something I had never heard of before.” Michael’s breath hitched, and he grew pale. Ghostly, almost. “Scáthach.”

Though you were entirely unfamiliar with the name, a violent, agonizing shiver tore through you, followed by a sharp pain stabbing your stomach. Your eyes grew watery, and Michael rushed to grab you before your body made contact with the floor.

“What the fuck is happening to everyone here?” He mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, as his hand ran through your hair in an attempt to soothe you. “Are you all right?”

You breathed in an out, slowly and deeply, letting your lungs do the job of keeping you conscious. “I’m fine. Is Mallory okay, though?” You whispered, breathlessly, vision still blurry and spotted with dark stains on the corners.

“Yes. I brought her inside, and put her to bed in the bedroom where I was sleeping. You don’t need to worry about her, I warned Cordelia as soon as she was in bed and they all rushed to help.”

You closed your eyes for a brief moment, allowing yourself to enjoy the momentary relief. But just like that, it was gone, and you were reminded of how much you worried for your dear friend.

“I need to go see her.”

Michael grabbed your arm, causing you to halt. His grip wasn’t violent: you could see it in his eyes that he was just scared. No, not scared. Terrified. “I know there’s no way in hell I could stop you from checking in on her, but I need you to know something, and please, pay attention to this: whatever was in her, it wasn’t there to help. I could feel it in the air when I walked out of the house; something evil was looming nearby. That name, and I won’t say it again…it called for ancient powers.” His eyes were wide. “It demanded blood.”

You gulped, feeling as if there was a large lump stuck in your throat. Your chest grew heavy. You didn’t even want to think about the name, and keeping something off the human mind is tricky business, but the hideousness that followed those syllables was destructive enough to keep the name away from your mind, and your lips. You reminded yourself to cleanse the whole house later. Maybe some incense would do the job. Maybe just letting the whole world end, too.

“I promise I’ll be very careful.” You mumbled, and then wrapped your arms around Michael’s neck. His hands quickly found their favourite spot right at the small of your back, and you sighed, trying to recall what it felt like not to fear for your life every second of the day. A small pang of guilt rang through, an unwelcome reminder that you had, in fact, kissed lips that were not his. And the worst part was that you had enjoyed it.

Your impulse threw you forward, kissing Michael hard. He was caught off guard, petrified for a second before he returned the kiss in both intensity and passion. You hadn’t kissed him in more than twenty hours and your body was suffering symptoms of withdrawal.

Michael ran his hand up and down your back, feeling your skin heat up under his touch. “I’ll be waiting here.”

You looked into his eyes, searching. You weren’t sure if you’d noticed something strange, or if he was just extremely tired, but the guilt from before came rushing back, a racecar ready to plow through you and leave you obliterated and all over the floor. You scolded yourself. _Stop projecting._

A quiet whisper in his ear. “I love you.”

You did not stick around to hear the answer, because within mere seconds you had rapidly hopped all the way up the staircase, and were making your way to the room where Mallory was sleeping. Your nerves were getting the best out of you. _Stupid, stupid…_

Upon softly twisting the doorknob, you found a pitch black room; not even the outlines of things could be distinguished from the void that stretched for a few feet ahead of you. A dry gulp – you were feeling uneasy.

“Mal?”

Your voice sounded too loud for the room. As if something could break from the noise, like the glasses opera singers would shatter with the sheer power of their singing. You remembered how comical it had always been to you, how you’d scrunch your nose at them as your mother insisted it was art. But now those things were only echoes of the past. Eaten through by moths.

“Mal? Are you awake?” You whispered. A gentle grunt came from what you assumed was the bed, and you sat quietly for a few seconds until your eyes grew accustomed to the darkness.

“Yeah.” Her raspy voice poured relief into your aching soul. God, thank you for sparing her life, thank you for not fucking this one up completely.

You dragged your feet towards her, careful not to trip over anything on the floor – after all, you still couldn’t tell the difference between a pair of shoes and something that looked convincingly like a dead sewer rat.

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, I’m so glad you’re okay.” You blurted out, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning over her. A tender embrace. She chuckled softly underneath you.

“Sap.” Mallory mumbled, bringing a choked laugh out of your throat.

“You’re absolutely right. You’re so right, I am a big sap, and I almost had a stroke when Michael told me you were possessed. What the fuck was that, Mal?”

She seemed to shiver, and you wondered if the subject was best left untouched.

“That…witch. She was responsible for Roanoke. Ever heard of that story?” You nodded. She drew a deep breath. “She was the first Supreme. Many, many witches for many centuries worshipped her, and failed to understand the reasoning behind their adoration. It wasn’t love; it was fear. I don’t dare say her name, but I’m guessing Michael told you?”

You remembered the horror that had swept through you at the mere mention of her name. “Yes.”

Mallory reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I understand. We aren’t supposed to hear her name. Myrtle’s Supreme held a council meeting with every coven leader in the world, and they all agreed to cast a protection spell, and what this spell does it keep away the power of the name. For example, when we hear it, instead of having it lure us in, it causes disgust, pain, aversion. Her name is like a siren’s call for us, and we must do whatever it takes to shield our minds from her darkness.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. Your heart was leaping furiously, adrenaline pumping like your body needed it more than blood. When you finally found your voice, your tongue felt heavy in your mouth; almost like your entire body refused to let you to speak.

“Mal…how did she find a loophole?” You resisted a shiver. You didn’t want her to know you were afraid to even breathe. “How did she possess you?”

Mallory’s lips quivered, and in the low-lit room you watched as a single frightened tear fell down her cheek. “I…”

There was a silence surrounding you that you hadn’t noticed earlier; something too terrifying to name. Like a beast watching its prey through thick foliage, counting down the seconds until it was the time to pounce. Tear at flesh like the sun rips through the night at dawn.

You felt your mouth growing dry. “It’s okay, take your time.”

Her chest heaved erratically. “I went outside for some fresh air in the middle of the night, I was having a nightmare and…” She stuttered, eyes darting from you, to the door, to her hands that fidgeted with her rings. “I just…I felt very dizzy and knew it was a vision coming, and when I saw the Satanists coming I got scared and…”

“And what, Mal?”

“…I summoned her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blood moon, by saint sister.  
> relieved? i told you all! i'd never betray my beloved readers like that!  
> as requested, next chapter will include a fair amount of soft Michael. anything for you, my dears!
> 
> comments and kudos are so very appreciated! if you want updates on the fic, or to request something (REQUESTS ARE OPEN! YEEHAW), or to just talk to me/flirt with me, my blog is @tillthelastbelltolls 
> 
> xx Nell


	17. A Little Wicked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there! i'm finally here! everything has gone back to an attainable normal (a new normal, but i'm okay with it.) this chapter is a rollercoaster and a half! hope y'all enjoy it. missed my dearest readers so so much!

You felt the staggering sensation of having been frozen into place; like every single vessel, muscle, and artery had been paralyzed. You felt an urge to vomit, but it didn’t faze you too much – you knew you couldn’t move. There was no release.

So you sat there, quietly, on the front steps of the old house turned headquarters, and watched as Cordelia sobered up from the anxiety fit she’d had earlier and walked towards Miriam Mead. Her pace revealed she had absolutely no desire of being there, let alone interact with someone as vile as the jet-black haired woman who stood, rather short, in front of her.

As she slowly made her way closer to the obnoxious gathering of fanatics, time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl, and your mind seemed entirely hell-bent on going through this morning’s events. First, the kiss you had shared with Mallory, which at this point was the least of your problems. Then, her little adventure at dawn. This made you realize that “little adventures” usually meant sneaking out at night to have secret sex and ingesting substances that were questionable at best, not grim things like possession and a near death experiences. And after that, just a few minutes before you and Cordelia crossed the front door, you had discovered that Mallory had brought all of that upon herself, and you were the only person that knew.

Now _this_. Whatever this fucking mess was, anyway. The entire group, who had been previously surrounding the entire house, was now gathered in something that ironically resembled a mosh pit, – albeit an exceedingly emo and violent one – and you had to engage every single nerve in your body in tremendous effort not to break into hysterical laughter.

Like mold inside a damp old house, your guilt and panic began to grow. You were, once again, taken over by the excruciating grip of your own demons, tearing and pulling at your heart and brain like fresh kill.

“Looks like you little whores found yourselves a nice place to start an infestation.” Said Mead, her mouth barely moving, her words piercing through the thick morning fog and succeeding in making you feel absurdly small.

Cordelia, however, straightened her posture; she had accepted the fight. “Miriam, that’s so old-fashioned. But alas, using ‘ _whore_ ’ as an insult is nothing more than what I expected from someone as pathetic and irrelevant as you.”

You fought a smirk, wondering if it was even possible for Mead to say anything after that. No matter what anyone said, no matter how many years passed, in your heart you would always remember with glee and pride the moment when Miriam Mead was irreparably destroyed.

And you were not wrong: the scowl that spread across Mead’s face was horrible enough to make milk go sour. However, she chose to speak, and you found yourself rolling your eyes at every single one of her words.

“I don’t take offence from bitches like you. Your mouth moves but all I can hear is the sound of the glorious Lord waiting to scorch every last one of you _cockroaches_.” When she mentioned her ‘lord’, the crowd that surrounded her howled in approval, and you felt your throat go dry. Closer inspection revealed to you that a few men in the back carried _actual_ torches and pitchforks.

“Like this could get any more ridiculous…” You muttered through your teeth, thinking you had been quiet enough.

Turns out, it had not.

“Oh!” Exclaimed Mead, feigning surprise and excitement to see you. “If it isn’t the star of the show! I’m so happy to find you here! Do explain to me, dear, how rewarding was it to lure my boy into this disgusting hole?” She gestured towards the house, not once averting her eyes from yours.

Your cheeks flared into pure crimson, rage dripping from your words. “He’s not _yours_.”

Mead flashed a victorious smile at you, seeming thrilled to have found your Achilles heel. As she took a step closer, you felt bile rising from your stomach, the bitterness reaching the back of your tongue. “There’s truly no need to lie, little thing, I know all of your secrets. Now, tell me, what did you have to do to take over his young mind? Did you get on your knees for him?”

You felt like your saliva was battery acid. There were painful tears welling in your eyes, your throat shut tight under her cruel smile. You hadn’t noticed it, but you were now fully standing, and ready to run in the opposite direction.

“Mead.” Warned Cordelia, from a distance. She seemed nailed to the ground, and you secretly hated her for not coming to help you, but then again, you couldn’t move either.

“Did you have to open your mouth wide and let him fuck your brains out?” Miriam was close enough that you could feel the smell of her breath. An undertone of something metallic. Your stomach was performing somersaults inside you, and for a brief moment you wondered if it would be too anticlimactic to projectile vomit into her horrible face.

“Mead.” Cordelia’s voice grew louder, and from the corner of your eye you could see her face turn pale. She was looking around without turning her head, and you failed to understand what exactly had caught her attention.

Once again, Mead ignored her warning. “Ah, I know what you did, you little bitch! You spread those legs of yours and seduced my precious boy! How dare you interfere with sacred matters? That boy isn’t yours to keep! He’s the devil’s! All hail Satan!”

Miriam raised her fist in the air, and both you and her expected the crowd to go insane, but a dreadful silence hovered like poisonous mist. Your fingertips grew cold, and soon the rest of your body followed, but just as you started to wonder what could have caused it, Mead revealed it to you.

“Michael!” She shrieked, wobbling towards him and throwing her arms around his shoulders. The name caused your stomach to settle, but the sight of him did little to help with the rest of your anxieties: he looked horrified by Mead’s words, and you could tell by the way his mouth curled downwards ever so slightly, and his eyebrows were almost joining.

You watched in fear as he remained stiff, face wet with recent tears. Mead backed away, and it slowly dawned upon her there was something wrong.

“What’s the mat–”

“Why would you say something like that?” Michael’s voice was cold. You shivered violently, realizing the temperature had actually dropped several degrees, and even Mead's group had started to quiver.

Cordelia started to walk towards you, quietly, as if she did not desire to be noticed. She reached for your wrist, wrapping her hand around it, and her cold fingertips made you wince. Her grip was a little too tight, an obvious indicator that she was afraid; you assumed it wasn’t of Michael himself, but what he could do if Mead set him off the wrong way.

“Be as quiet as you can.” Cordelia whispered, and you turned around just in time to see her lips quiver lightly, her big round eyes glued to Michael and Mead, unblinking.

“Michael, child! Can’t you see how foul this girl is? She’s using you, she’s just a ploy! They want to lure you into their circle to destroy you, and you mustn’t let them!” Mead was desperate, gesturing frantically towards Cordelia and you, and up at the windows – you looked up and realized the rest of your coven watched, silently. “Think of the Dark Lord! He lives in you, Michael, he needs to rise! This is what we’ve been waiting for, and you cannot let a simple whore like that stand in the way of our plans.”

As Mead pointed at you with a trembling finger, Michael let out a painful sob. His chest heaved erratically, and you thought you were about to boil into mist; this was far too terrible to watch. You wanted to shatter into smithereens.

“Don’t call her a whore. Don’t you dare, Mrs. Mead.” He mumbled, voice barely audible, and you began shaking with unparalleled anger, and a seething desire to jump at her throat. She was torturing him, knowing full well he could not react to her in particular, and wouldn’t dare meddle with his powers while going through such a vulnerable moment. He was afraid, afraid of Mead, afraid of himself, and for that you were on the verge of doing something violent.

“But that’s all she is! A slut, a witch, a pest! We must get rid of her and that filthy coven of hers!” She continued, voice growing an octave higher. You were half expecting to see smoke come out of her ears.

“Don’t call her names!” Michael yelled out, his words coming out too strangled to cause fear. You felt his agony, and it made your stomach churn. You then understood Mallory’s despair when she decided to call upon Scáthach.

Mead took a step closer to him, attempting to grab him by the shoulders, and you felt a powerful surge of courage raging through you.

“Stop it! You’re hurting him, can’t you see?” Your voice boomed, startling you and everyone else in the vicinity. Your heart was beating so fast it almost felt jittery, bringing your limbs to a stance that could only mean your body was preparing for a fight. Adrenaline rushed through your blood in a stream of energy and spasms and bravery that hadn’t been there before.

Mead’s eyes grew wide in a fit of rage. “Shut your mouth, you dirty bitch! If it weren’t for you, none of this would have happened!”

Michael suddenly sunk to the floor, violent sobs tearing through his body like earthquakes of unprecedented magnitude. He had brought his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly, and buried his head into his legs. As he softly cried, he began murmuring something that you couldn’t identify at first, but then it became clearer to you. He was saying “please, don’t”.

“Look what you’ve done to him, stupid whore! Are you happy now?” Mead screamed, her mouth contorting into a horrifying smile. She wasn’t sorry. You, on the other hand, felt a strange type of heat rising within you, scorching you from the inside out.

“You’re a fucking _monster_.” You spat out, unable to control yourself. Tears began streaming down your face, but you were far from scared. No, you were fucking furious. “You play the nice mother role, and pretend to be responsible for his upbringing, but you’re nothing more than a deranged psychopath.”

Mead stopped for a second, and every single nerve in your body sensed danger. Like a looming predator, she slowly turned her entire body towards you. Your instincts told you Mead was preparing to attack.

“You talk like you know anything about him. In truth, and we can all agree on this,” – she gestured around, beckoning the rest of her group to back her up – “Michael is nothing but a vessel. He might be the son of Satan, sure, but he’s just a weak boy with weak flesh. He’s still controlled by his desires, and I can see that he’s blind to reality because he managed to pick the single most disgusting girl I’ve ever seen in my life. And let’s be very honest here, I think we all know why he wanted you in the first place.”

You knew where she was going with this, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to shut her up. Your knees were reduced to slush.

“You’re just an easy whore. All it took was one single look from him and you were spreading your legs for him, and he fucked your festering cunt until he forgot himself!”

What followed Miriam Mead’s last words happened so fast, and with such intensity, that I fully believe you did not grasp all of it. Therefore, I must break my narrator’s vow and remind you –  in great detail – about what took place right in that moment.

Like the seconds of horrifying calm before the storm, silence fell upon that small area, causing the gathering of Satanists to cease their chatter, and the witches who watched from the windows stirred uncomfortably. Zoe’s breath hitched in her throat. Misty gasped, hand flying to her mouth.

“Holy fuck.” Breathed Madison, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene.

Every single Satanist hovered several feet above the pavement, their necks bent at a gut-wrenching angle as if invisible ropes had delivered their death sentences. Their eyes looked glazed over, focused on something you couldn’t see, and their mouths were slightly parted, resulting in a terrifying and permanent scowl. It took you a few seconds to realize that they were all dead – that was why they had gone quiet.

When the fire inside your bones faded, you were able to take in exactly what had happened; and right in that moment, the levitating bodies fell to the ground with a thud so revolting that you felt your stomach flip. You wanted to speak but it felt like your mouth was made of cotton.

“Who…?” Was all you managed to spit out, looking around in terror. Cordelia, as it seemed, had rushed away from you, and was now holding Michael by the arm, ready to bring him back into the house. “Michael?”

He shook his head vehemently, eyes nearly bulging from their sockets. Cordelia didn’t look too different when she finally gathered enough strength to speak.

“That was not him.”

You looked in the opposite direction, surveying the damage in the street: for at least half a mile, piles upon piles of bodies littered every inch of pavement, stretching from both sides of the road. You searched for curious neighbours and onlookers, but realized no one could have seen it; the entire street was empty except for the old Victorian. A silence of the dead, as people used to say. You began walking between the bodies, trying to let a dreadful thought settle in your mind – the thought that maybe, through powers still unknown, you had caused it.

In the distance, you noticed as Cordelia made her way towards you, slowly and carefully. She stretched out a hand, beckoning you. “Come back here, dear. It won’t do you any good to keep looking.”

Your eyes shifted quickly between her face and Michael’s, going back and forth in a frantic attempt to read their expressions. Among all the emotions you managed to gather, the most intense one was clearly fear; and you felt a sob shaking through your whole body when you realized the thing they were afraid of was _you_.

The storm finally found its cue, and came crashing down in waves that left your knees buckling under your weight. The overpowering energy from before had dissipated, and now you were going through the horrors of a withdrawal so relentless you genuinely believed this was it, you were about to die. You looked at your feet momentarily, the realization that your body was about to give out suddenly dawning upon you. You had done it, you had killed them all, you were responsible for this.

“Mich–” Was all you managed to say, weakly, before your skin grew fuzzy, energy buzzing under like you had been plugged into an outlet. Or rather, like you were a television screen showing nothing but static, tiny needles poking into you mockingly.

Michael had, somehow, bolted towards you so fast he had been able to sweep you into his arms before you made contact with the ground, tucking you safely under his chin, and carrying you in absolute silence towards Cordelia. She opened the main door, letting both of you in, and shut it loudly behind you after coming through.

“Oh god, she _scrombled_.” Whimpered Misty, a concerned look spreading on her face as she followed Michael like a curious small child, horrified tears gathering in the corners of her big bright eyes.

Madison frowned, twisting her mouth disgustedly. “Will you stop using that word? You invented it! It’s not real!”

“What word do you expect me to use, then?” Misty retorted, beyond flustered. She was sniffling copiously now.

“Well, for starters, one in a real fucking language. ‘Aftershock’, for example! _Swampy_ _bitch_.”

For some unknown reason, the bickering was the straw that broke _your_ back. You wiggled your entire body free of Michael’s grip, falling gracelessly to the ground and emptying the contents of your stomach without much ceremony.

Madison stared in a mixture of horror and sympathy; which in itself was a strange occurrence. You coughed, and soon Cordelia was rushing to help you get up and away from the mess you’d just caused.

“Oh, she _really_ did _scromble_.” Madison muttered, only to have Misty nod solemnly in silence beside her.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, your face wet with tears brought by the physical discomfort. You had never been too good at throwing up. “About the mess.”

Michael chuckled softly as he picked you up again, and kissed your forehead tenderly. Even though you still felt extremely fuzzy and incoherent, you smiled at the warmth of his lips against your skin. You had missed his touch.

“I miss yours too.” He whispered, and you realized he was taking you to the bedroom right beside Mallory’s. You turned around and saw Cordelia, Zoe, and Queenie following you two upstairs, and almost frowned. You would never say this out loud, or even admit it to yourself, but the horrible scenario you had just left behind had messed you up so thoroughly that your mind could only focus on one thought in order to cope: you wanted Michael to _rail_ you. 

Right in that moment, Michael snorted loudly, startling both you and Zoe, who was the one closest to you. He blushed, realizing it had been incredibly inappropriate. “Sorry. Something got caught in my throat.”

Zoe looked suspicious, but seemed to brush it off quickly: there were more important matters at hand than Michael’s dark sense of humour. As soon as he put you down on the bed, Zoe placed her small hand on your forehead, then checked your pulse by wrapping two fingers around your wrist. She listened, quietly, then hummed to herself and whispered something to Queenie, who ran through the door.

You had been looking at her for a few minutes, eyes refusing to stop studying her face attentively. “You wanted to be a nurse.”

Zoe’s eyes shot up to look into yours, a slight flash of shock rushing through her irises. “P-pardon?”

You didn’t know where that had come from. The thought had just popped up inside your head, uninvited, and settled down inside your brain like an unwelcome guest making themselves at home. “When you were a little girl. Right? You wanted to be a nurse when you grew up.”

She blinked a few times, mouth agape. Her cheeks had lost colour entirely. “Are you looking into my past?”

“Not intentionally. I just looked into your eyes for a second and the idea emerged. I had no control.”

Zoe drew in a deep breath, biting her lower lip. “This isn’t good.”

Cordelia, who had been silent until then, placed a hand on Zoe’s shoulder, tapping the girl’s collarbone with her thumb.

“We should leave her to sleep for a little while. Queenie will come back soon with her enchanted water, and then after that we should just let her be. I feel like today has already been hard enough for all of us, and we should rest while we still can.”

Michael ran his fingers through your hair, gaze lost and clouded over. When he spoke, he wasn’t talking to you. “Do you think she’s gone?”

Cordelia pursed her lips. “I’m not sure. But she disappeared as soon as…well, as soon as hell broke loose, for lack of a better explanation, so I can’t say anything yet. I’m sorry.” She looked at you briefly, and you felt a torturous pang of guilt in your heart. “Now rest. Both of you. You need it.”

After she exited the room, only a few seconds of silence followed before Queenie ran inside, carrying a tray with a tall pitcher full of water and a few flowers, and two glasses.

“Brought two of ‘em. Figured you should have some, too.” She said, nodding at Michael. He smiled, thanking her. She stopped in her tracks, a look of curiosity fleetingly brushing across her face, and then shook her head, as if to dismiss the thought. “That was crazy, what happened out there. I’m glad you made it out in one piece.”

You snorted. “Several one pieces, you mean?”

Queenie smiled, a short laugh escaping her mouth. “We can get to know each other later, but you should do as Miss Cordelia says. I performed an incantation with this water here so your nerves can calm down, and I feel like you’re both gonna be out like a light in a matter of minutes.”

“Thank you, Queenie. I appreciate it so much.”

She smiled again, nodded at Michael again, and made her way out, carefully shutting the door behind her. You were finally able to take a proper look at Michael’s face, and breathe a sigh of utmost relief before shoving your face into the crook of his neck.

“I…” You started, and then paused to inhale the scent of sandalwood that lingered on his skin. It was intoxicating. “I really don’t want to talk about what happened.”

A soft laugh rumbled through his chest, and you felt it against your own as he adjusted himself to lie down beside you. The morning had gone from gentle and bright to a gloomy, downcast day that had you shivering. Michael noticed this, and pulled you into a sweet embrace.

“Me neither. That was too much to process.” He said, pressing several little kisses to your forehead. You reveled in his touch, closing your eyes as his soft lips traced your skin and elicited sparkles from you. Your blood streamed in screams of his name.

You opened your eyes to look into his, admiring the earth-shattering beauty of those icy blue gemstones resting perfectly on his face.

“Michael.”

A corner of his full lips curled upwards, and your heart stammered in your chest; as if it had been delivering a speech, and then suddenly realized, to its own profound horror, that the Queen of England had walked in.

“Yes?” His voice was a low husky melody.

“Please kiss me.” You begged, voice breaking with pure want, and his pupils blew up inside his eyes.

“Always.” Michael said, and then lowered his lips onto yours, sending a hurricane inside your bones, sucking the marrow out with one single flick of his tongue. He licked your lips, slowly, and seemed to be enjoying the state that could put you in: you were, without a shadow of doubt, a mess.

He kissed you like he hadn’t been able to taste anything this sweet in decades. Like you could blow oxygen into his lungs simply by moving your lips against his. He tasted like salvation, but deep down you knew he was nothing but the opposite; your damnation, your personal elevator straight into hell. A taste of the afterlife that tricked you into wanting the bottom of the abyss.

“ _Fuck_.” He muttered, eyes squeezing shut. You had been so lost in his kiss that you failed to notice his mood had shifted abruptly.

“What’s wrong?”

Michael rubbed his eyes, then pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked absolutely exhausted, but there was a strange kind of sadness looming underneath, begging for you to tap into it, begging for some kind of release.

“I see.” You whispered, gently bumping your forehead against his, and resting there.

He wasn’t as surprised as Zoe had been, but his pleased smile showed you he had not been expecting to be read so thoroughly.

“You just keep surprising me, don’t you, darling?” He chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to your mouth, and wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pull you down onto the pillows with him. “I’m very stressed out, and very tired, but I don’t know how to make my brain stop yelling. Suggestions?”

You pondered the options. You could both drink some of Queenie’s water. You could punch each other in the face as hard as possible and knock each other out cold. You could…

“Just sit back and relax.” You whispered in his ear, smiling when you felt the goosebumps erupt on his skin. “I got you.”

Michael crossed his arms behind his head, raising an eyebrow at you. “I seriously have no idea what you’re going to do, and it kind of terrifies me.”

You rolled your eyes, moving to sit up and straddle his thighs. Now both his eyebrows were nearly touching his hairline. “I said, I got you.”

You leant over, gently rocking your hips in order to move up and against his crotch. His face relaxed, eyes fluttering shut, and you kissed his jawline. You then sank your teeth into the skin right above his pulse point, and felt his breath hitch.

“I could kill you right here…” You said, and he smiled wide, eyes still closed. He trusted you so much, and every time you thought about it you could swear your heart was about to burst out of your chest like John Hurt. “But you know I would never do that. Why would I want to live in a world without you?”

You rocked your hips again, and it resulted in a straining, bulging arousal in his pants. His breath escaped his lips erratically, and he groaned softly.

“I know…I know you’re about to do something indescribably sinful to me right now, but I _do_ hope you know that…” He trailed off when you began unbuckling his belt.

“Yes?” A cheeky smile was etched onto your face, and you hoped he could see it.

“I hope you never forget that I love you. I know you don’t want to talk about today, but I just wanted you to know that I felt something leave me when you were fighting for me. I felt some of that wickedness physically fade from my heart, and I cannot even begin to thank you for that. It was like a dream, like someone was diluting the lead inside me with the purest moon water, banishing those demons from me, leaving a safe haven behind.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, eyes suddenly overflowing with tears. “Are you _seriously_ making me cry right before I blow you?”

Michael laughed, and you tried to laugh too, but it came out strangled and awkward and overall incredibly horrendous. You wiped your face with your sleeves, leaving giant tear stains on the fabric. You ultimately decided to rid yourself of the sweater, and the cool air in the room made you shiver at its contact with your bare skin.

“I love you. Just like you love me. And if we’re bound to keep evening each other out, I say we keep doing whatever the fuck we’re doing, because I feel like it’s working out for us.” You sniffled, and his hands slowly made their way to your thighs, resting there. His thumbs were drawing circles on your skin, a soothing gesture that only made you want to cry more, but you stopped yourself. Now was not the time for indulging in the waterworks; you had business here, and you intended to deliver it.

“Now can I…?” You mumbled, looking at his belt, then back up at him.

Michael nodded, closing his eyes again, and you rid him of the garment, then of his pants. Now there was only his boxers, and his arousal pressing against them. You moved down, and pressed an innocent kiss to his navel. “It is Sunday, after all.”

He simply raised an eyebrow to your statement, and you grinned.

“Time for me to open wide for my holy communion, my love.”

Michael groaned when you palmed him through his underwear. “So hard already. It’s almost like you’re begging me to put my mouth around it.”

“God, _yes_ …” He moaned, and you didn’t protest when one of his hands tangled itself in your hair.

You unhurriedly lowered the waistband of his boxers, taking your sweet time to torture him beyond repair. When you got rid of it, you tapped the inside of his thigh softly, and he opened his eyes again.

“You can watch if you want.” And his hooded eyes followed you as you languidly licked his entire length, bottom to top, and closed your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around it. Michael gasped.

“You have no idea how good you taste, love. I intend to swallow every last bit of you when you come.” You confessed, and then lowered your mouth onto his length. You realized you had forgotten how particularly gifted he was in that area, and upon taking all of him in, a few teardrops threatened to escape your eyes.

He moaned again, and his fist tightened around the sheets, his other hand pulling your hair almost gently. “Yes, baby, god…”

Michael seemed to be enjoying your mercifulness. You, however, had no desire to have him last any longer, and without any warning, you rushed into a torturous pace that sent him panting, chest heaving furiously as he tried with all of his might not to scream out.

“I’m gonna…Jesus _fucking_ Christ, I’m gonna come.” He hissed, and his head tipped backwards, his torso arching. You realized he had begun thrusting ever so lightly into your mouth, and even though you enjoyed being in control, there was something so carnal and vulgar about it that you found yourself absentmindedly stroking your own heated core.

Michael did not last, as you had predicted. With one final thrust of his hips, he spilled in your mouth, and this time he made sure to watch intently as you swallowed, licking his own lips and you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. He looked undeniably stunned. Addicted.

You crawled towards him for a kiss, which he was more than happy to oblige. You knew how fucking delicious it was to taste yourself on someone’s lips, and you guessed he was finally experiencing that for the first time.

When you backed away from him, he fell gracelessly onto the bed, and you got off his lap to lie down next to him. He looked just about ready to fall asleep, but you didn’t want him to have the last word.

You lowered your hand between your bodies, reaching for his tip where you had left some of your _holy_ _communion_ behind. You swiped your thumb across the head, and brought it to your lips, sucking it clean and letting go with a loud and obscene pop.

Michael’s eyes were wide as a pair of moons, even in his exhausted state.

You smiled wickedly. “ _Amen_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little wicked by valerie broussard.  
> this song is from the chilling adventures of sabrina soundtrack! i honestly loved that show so much, and cannot wait until april for season two. the witchling in me is filled with joy!!
> 
> as usual, i'd love to know what you thought about this chapter! kudos and comments are encouraged and appreciated to the highest extent! find me on tumblr at @tillthelastbelltolls (writing/fic blog) 
> 
> love you all! happy new year!


	18. Various Storms & Saints

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so mad at myself! should have posted this sooner. anyway, here's so much filth you're definitely gonna need a shower after reading. have fun. i sure did.

An ear-splitting shriek rattled the house, jerking you and Michael awake. He had been sleeping on your shoulder, nuzzled against the crook of your neck, and the scream caused him to look thoroughly distressed.

You rapidly got up from the bed, making your way out of the room, only to find the rest of the coven standing in front of Mallory’s door. Your stomach dropped like the blade of a guillotine, feelings of guilt ripping you to pieces: in the chaos that had taken place earlier, you had forgotten about your friend. Your poor, sweet, possessed friend.

“What is going on?” You whispered, trying not to raise your voice amid the haunting silence that had fallen upon the house.

Madison was attempting to break into the room with a bobby pin, her face scrunched up with the effort. It was a matter of seconds before she hastily threw it to the floor, groaning in frustration. “It won’t fucking budge.”

“Do you think she locked it from the inside?” Asked Queenie, lowering herself to the floor to take a look under the wooden door. As she peered inside, you all held your breath, the unnerving quiet taking over once more, but then she got up, shaking her head. “Can’t see anything.”

Cordelia absentmindedly massaged one of her temples, looking at her feet. “Misty, can you try to reach out?”

Misty drew in a sharp breath, and reluctantly touched the door with the palm of her hand. “Mallory? Can you hear me? Follow my voice.”

There was a low rumble, something that eerily resembled a beast’s growl. Your heart faltered, sending a lump into your throat, and you realized the noise had come from the room.

Misty’s breath was ragged when she backed away, face pale and frozen into a look of terror. “That’s not Mallory.”

Another blood-curdling scream shot out of the bedroom, and it felt like your bones were turning into jelly. You hastily turned around to look for Michael, but he had been quietly standing behind you the whole time, and you ended up stumbling harshly against his chest. You looked up, and his blue eyes were wide open and filled with dread. It was with great horror and hopelessness that you realized he was just as afraid as you were; that he also did not know what to do.

But that was your friend in there, no matter how much the creature had already taken. That was your soul bond sister, your everlasting soulmate. Warm tears began trailing down your cheeks, dipping into the corner of your lips. Your gut instincts told you that if you happened to lose the connection, you would sink into despair forever; your powers would wane, atrophy, and eventually fade into oblivion.

“I’m opening the goddamn door.” You muttered through gritted teeth, tearing through the small crowd in front of the entrance, pushing your way forward. Your brain was functioning on automatic pilot: you could not feel the devastating fear anymore, you were only crying and fumbling with the doorknob. Still, as much as you tried to twist and turn and shove it, it seemed to be jammed.

You let out a frustrated groan that melted into a scream. “Don’t you _fucking_ test me!” And on a whim, your fingers closed into a fist, and you struck the wooden door with all your might. The second your skin touched it, however, the whole thing flew backwards into the room, and violently crashed against the wall on the other side, sending a thunderous impact through the old house.

A hoarse, rippling chuckle echoed from the bed where Mallory lay. “I knew your powers would come alive, my sweet girl.”

You gulped, mouth plunging into a scowl. “Get _out_.”

Scáthach laughed again, her raspy voice casting a shadow upon you like toxic smoke. “Come forward, child, let me take a look at you…”

You turned around, searching for Michael’s eyes. “Back me up here. I’m gonna need it.” You whispered as he carefully made his way through the witches to stand right behind you.

“Oh, you’re bringing in the real deal, aren’t you?” Scáthach scoffed. You were desperate for a source of light; a candle, a lightbulb, a literal blazing pit of hell fire. Anything to fight off the overwhelming cold that had spread inside the dismal darkness of the bedroom. “You don’t need a man to protect you.”

Michael cleared his throat awkwardly, and your face twisted even further with sourness. Right in that moment, Cordelia and several of the other women walked in holding bright candles, and positioned themselves behind you and Michael. It was just then that you could see Mallory’s face: your friend was unrecognizable. Her beautiful face had become so thin you could see the bone structure in a shocking manner, and her dark circles were the colour of a stormy sky. But above all, you could not see Mallory in her own eyes; only terror, only rage, only violence.

“He’s not here to protect me.” You spat out. “But I won’t let you change the subject. Why are you here?”

The elder witch simply hummed, and you wished to god and the heavens and whoever was listening that she wasn’t inside your friend’s body; you wanted to jump at her throat and choke that disgusting smile out of her face.

“Oh, you are so foolish. Your friend was ever so kind and decided to call upon me. And I believe she was truly desperate, since it’s a real torment to summon me to the mortal realm. But alas, here I am, with a purpose and a time to leave.”

You stared at her, unable to fully comprehend what she had just said. A purpose? A time to leave?

Scáthach chuckled again, shaking her head in amusement. “Of course, she isn’t to blame for it. I must admit I took advantage of her disturbed state and pushed my way through.”

Myrtle, who had been quiet until then, raised her voice in disbelief. “You manipulated her into calling for you? _Miserable old hag,_ is it because you’re tired of _rotting_ under the earth? Mallory is an exceptional example of a Supreme, and you are not worthy of inhabiting her sacred human vessel. Be gone, beldam!”

Zoe gently wrapped her arm around Myrtle’s, attempting to calm her down, and then turned her attention to Scáthach, who had been getting ready to leave the bed. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Scáthach simply smiled, showing a line of yellow rotten teeth underneath. A collective gasp vibrated in the dim room, causing you to shudder in consternation. You had not expected to witness so much of the hideousness that hid behind Scáthach and her name to come out and seep into Mallory’s previously beautiful features.

“I am not here to pay respect to puny witches and devil-worshippers.” The sorceress declared, slowly sliding off the bed and standing up without much balance. You considered the options of throwing a swift punch, knocking her right out. Mallory wouldn’t like to wake up to a massive bruise, but it would spare all of you from an irritating old bitch preaching about her own archaic beliefs. “I am here because I needed to deliver your powers.”

It took you a few seconds to realize she was pointing at you. The whole room went silent, a dreadful quiet that seemed to be able to move mountains with its sheer force.

“My powers?” You echoed, voice getting lost in the thick air.

“Yes, child. And before any of you start asking any questions, no, she will not overthrow your precious Supreme.” Scáthach half spoke half growled, a vile grin spreading on Mallory’s face. You hated every second of it. “As some of you may know, there are two women in this room who form an _anima_ _vinctum_ : this one…” She pointed to herself. “And you.” Scáthach turned to you.

Myrtle scoffed. “You should know that Supremes in line for the throne cannot have _anima_ _vinctum_. They aren’t built to depend on another person.”

“It’s not unheard of.” Mumbled Cordelia, softly, as if afraid of crossing both her senior and the original Supreme. When Myrtle turned to face her, she seemed to be demanding an explanation for the interruption. Cordelia inhaled deeply. “Mallory came to me a few days ago and told me she felt an uncommon bond. She didn’t know with whom at that point, but it was clearly very strong, as whenever she left to be alone it grew unbearable.”

“And when Supremes develop the soul bond, I must be summoned to deliver the other half’s powers. Simple as that. I am here for a simple task, and now I am ready to leave this vessel.” Scáthach revealed, running her hands over Mallory’s waist and hips. “Oh, how I miss being so young and powerful…”

You shook your head. “Come back to the present. Why do I need to have special powers?”

Scáthach narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing your bravery. “Because you must be able to complete her. Can’t you see, dear child? You are the other half; and halves must be equal.”

The idea of being Mallory’s other half sent rivaling emotions into your already weary heart. This obviously meant that you could never be apart, no matter what, or your friend would begin to ebb away, like the receding tide. However, Cordelia had mentioned that Mallory had felt the highs and lows of your connection. You, on the other hand, seemed to be immune to that.

“Now, sweet ones, I must depart. I’m afraid I have overstayed my welcome.” Scáthach confessed, smiling to herself.

“You think so?” A previously silent Madison chipped in, her arms crossed and face exhibiting a scathing frown.

“You have a death wish.” Mumbled Queenie, who then turned around and exited the room. You admired her lack of care towards the situation, and wished you hadn’t been involved in the first place. A memory of the times before meeting Michael resurfaced, and you brushed it off just as quickly as it came.

“Farewell, dear witches. Take care of your coven, above all.” Scáthach continued, ignoring Madison’s intervention. Her expression, however, turned sour for a moment when she made eye contact with you. “If I hear of that man touching a single hair on this coven’s heads, I will come back. In fury. In fire.”

Michael stiffened behind you, and you reached a hand around your back to hold his in reassurance. “Thanks for the tip, but we’ll be fine. Now get out of my friend’s body.”

The elder witch straightened herself, still very much amused by your inability to contain yourself, and then lifted her eyes to the ceiling. Mallory’s mouth opened slowly, and thick black smoke came out of it in a horrifying cloud, melting into the wood without leaving a trace. Just as it evaporated, Mallory – now herself – let out a small groan, before collapsing inelegantly to the floor.

You rushed to her aid, ignoring the possibility of diving into a trap, and placed both hands under her head to lift it towards your face. After a few moments of thorough inspection, you concluded that she was not injured, just unconscious.

Zoe had kneeled beside her as well, taking her wrist in her hand and checking for Mallory’s pulse, just like she had done with you earlier that day. You smiled, and Zoe returned it shyly, a single corner of her mouth curving upwards.

“The day has taken its toll on all of us. I’m going to advise everyone to go to sleep, and I think we should all move to the basement for the moment being.” Cordelia spoke, placing her hand on Misty’s back to guide her out of the room. After her, Madison, Myrtle, Zoe, and Michael walked out, leaving only you and Cordelia inside. And Mallory’s unconscious ass. “I can sense that you have a question and if you do not ask it, your body will burst.” She smiled, leaning against the wall.

You looked at her, then at Mallory, whose head you were still holding tenderly. Her hair felt soft between your fingers. “You mentioned that she came to you…saying she felt an awful tug when she was away from me. But I cannot feel that…” You trailed off, ashamed of yourself.

Cordelia smiled reassuringly. “As harsh as it may sound, you’ve only got yourself to blame. You’ve been building walls, my dear. Tall, impenetrable walls that won’t let your true feelings out.”

You stared at her, wide eyed. How could this be possible? This whole time your mind had been dashing from one ephemeral, anxious thought to the other, and you truly had not paid attention to any patterns emerging from this chaos. But you knew Cordelia was right; there was something blocking your mind like some sick kind of uninvited border patrol.

“I know it doesn’t sound that simple, but you need to let your feelings flow out of you. It’s essential that you understand your heart for your craft to progress and develop properly. Among many other reasons, of course.” Cordelia winked, eliciting a quick smile from you. “I understand that the past few days have been nothing but utter disorder, and that it feels impossible to take control of yourself during times like these, but you must try; for yourself, more than for others.”

Later on, after everything had been rapidly moved into the basement, after spending hours upon hours carrying heavy furniture up and down creaky stairs, you were finally able to sit down and breathe. The basement, as it turned out, was far larger than you had thought: it extended itself into several rows and corridors, leading into well-preserved rooms that only required minimal cleaning. Upon discovering the strange neatness of said rooms, you wondered quietly if the house had already been inhabited by witches.

Cordelia had sent you and Michael to the very last room, right at the end of a long hallway, and you were now lying in bed by yourself, waiting for him to return from an insisted upon ‘safety check’ around the house. You considered joining him, but your muscles were too sore from all the cleaning and moving, and you stayed behind to relax in a soft bed. Still, you admired Michael’s decision to keep the coven safe, as if he was a part of it himself.

“Character growth.” You whispered to yourself, which quickly turned into a giggling fit.

A soft knock at the door made you stop. “Yes?”

“You’re laughing by yourself now, darling? Should I be concerned?” Michael’s voice was tired, but still soft for you, and you were certain that it would never fail to plant small seeds of warmth within you. He peeked inside, making you laugh again at his silliness.

“Very. I’m a knucklehead, weren’t you aware?”

Michael chuckled, closing the door behind him and gracelessly throwing himself onto the mattress. He crawled until he could bury his head into your neck, and then sighed deeply. “My favourite little nut job.”

His breath tickled your skin, and your chest grew warmer. “I love you.”

You could feel a smile stretching on Michael’s lips, and he pressed a soft kiss to your neck. “I love _you_.”

A few seconds of serene quiet went by as you stared at the wavering flames of the scented candles Misty had placed by your bedside.

“Michael.”

“Hm?”

“You weren’t jealous?”

He propped himself up on his elbow, squinting at you in absolute confusion. “The hell?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him mockingly. “Well, about the whole _anima_ _vinctum_ thing. That I have a soul bond with Mallory. You weren’t jealous?”

Michael simply stared at you, examining your face in silence. “Why would I be? You’re basically her soul sister. Is that a bad thing?”

“No, no, but I…” You hesitated, thinking about the kiss, and pondered if you should have told him about it.

Michael shook his head, smiling, and threw his head onto the pillow. “I know about the kiss.”

You thought your blood had been sent into a boil, and your flesh was about to melt off your bones. Heart racing, lips trembling, and a crushing sense of shame were the only things that seemed real to you.

“ _Jesus_ , relax!” Michael laughed, cupping your cheek. “I’m really, really not worried about it. I can sense your emotions and have no doubt as to how you feel about me, darling. I know that I belong to you, and you belong to _me_.”

The feeling of sheer guilt subsided, leaving room for a small fire to arise in the pit of your stomach. You hated to admit it, but his idea of possession was the single most arousing concept you had ever encountered.

Michael, having sensed the appalling shift of emotions in you, smiled smugly, and dragged his tongue over the pulse point on your neck, pausing only to tug at it softly with his teeth. “You do like to feel like you belong to me, don’t you, darling?”

You shivered, knowing full well where this was going. Nevertheless, you had more than a couple ideas, and intended to make them known.

“Prove it. Prove to me that I’m yours.” You whispered, breath faltering momentarily. You had never talked to him like that.

But Michael smiled, eyes shining with lust. “Oh, darling, I thought you’d never ask.” And then you felt his strong hands wrapping around you, and pulling you to him for an almost violent kiss that had your knees wobbling and core aching in anticipation. He groaned, lowering his hands to your ass and squeezing it.

You moaned into his mouth, which only seemed to drive him wilder, and even more aroused. “Fuck, baby, I’ve been thinking about this for so long…”

You broke off the kiss for a moment, gazing into his icy blue gemstones. “Thinking about what, lover?”

Michael smiled at the pet name, and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hands and knees.” He demanded, and you forced yourself to stifle a loud oncoming gasp.

“I don’t want them to hear us.” You whispered, shifting yourself into the position he wanted.

Michael took his place behind you, pressing against your back with his torso. “No one will be able to hear anything.” He breathed, kissing the back of your neck. One of his hands traveled to your breast. “You’re wearing too much.”

And this time, he made both of your garments vanish without even snapping his fingers. You could sense how utterly desperate her was. How desperate for _you_.

“ _Fuck_ …much better.” Michael groaned, now grabbing one of your breasts, which brought a soft whimper out of your lips. His other hand flew to your neck, wrapping itself gently around it, and pulling you backwards until you were only kneeling. You noticed how he had placed his legs between yours, almost to ensure that you would spread yourself to him, and surrendered yourself to the euphoria. “Are you entirely sure that you want to be taken like this?”

You chuckled softly when he applied some pressure on your neck, closing your eyes with delight. “Yes. Make it rough.”

It was Michael’s turn to gasp. The hand on your neck carefully turned your face so he could kiss you again, and his other hand dipped between your bodies to position himself. He teased at your entrance, drawing carnal sobs from your throat.

“Michael…” You moaned, opening your begging eyes only to see that his mouth was agape and his eyes were fixed on you, and so dark you could easily get lost in them.

He lost his breath for a moment, gaze completely lost on your face. “Beg.”

You involuntarily let out a sharp, ragged breath at the imperative. There was nothing else in the entire world; the universe itself had ceased to exist. You felt like your knees weren’t pressing against the mattress. The slightly cold air that caused shivers was now gone. Nothing _was_ , except for you and him.

“Please, Michael…” You implored, stammering faintly when he pressed himself against your entrance once again. “Please, _please_ , _fuck_ _me_.”

He didn’t wait. Michael buried himself into you, bringing a scream out of your mouth. The position allowed for him to hit at an angle that got you seeing stars and losing your mind. But he wasn’t in a rush, either; Michael moved slowly, torturously, sending a bolt of heat up your spine with every deep thrust.

While one of his hands still pressed gently on your throat, the other one descended to your hip, then your navel, and found its destination at your core. He circled it and you sobbed, grinding your hips backwards to let him in further. Michael groaned, and then lifted that hand to your lips.

“Open.”

And you did, allowing two of his fingers to enter your mouth, and swirled your tongue around them. He hummed in pleasure, then slowly removed them and returned to where you wanted him.

“I barely needed this. You’re already so wet for me, darling.” Michael sighed into your ear as he drew patterns around your throbbing center. He drew back, then thrusted inside you one more time, and you couldn’t avoid the loud cry that tore out of your lungs. “So…fucking… _tight_.”

“Michael, please…” You whined, and he pressed his thumb against your clit, sending a violent shiver down your spine.

“Yes?”

You gulped, licking your dry lips. “Harder, faster…please…I need you.”

Without bothering to answer, he shoved himself into you, then again, and again, and his hand never left your neck. Your screams could have awoken the whole house; every time Michael thrusted you felt an overwhelming surge of pleasure erupting from your core, and there was no way you’d have been able to be quieter. The animalistic sounds of skin slapping violently against skin was so filthy, so impure, and yet you found yourself in total and complete bliss.

Michael wasn’t trying to be quiet either. His groans settled like molten lava inside you – an euphoric reminder that you could pull sounds like that out of him. The hand around your neck seemed to increase the pleasure tenfold, and he clearly enjoyed it just as much as you did.

Soon enough, Michael was panting, an obvious sign that he was reaching the edge. You knew what this meant: he was about to increase in speed and force. And so he did.

You were already seeing entire constellations and you hadn’t even reached your climax yet. The almost uncontained aggression of his pace was heavenly, and you wanted to feel his hips stutter, you wanted his warmth to spill inside you, you wanted him to come in a scream just as loud as yours had been.

“Michael.” You half whispered, half moaned; this caught his attention quickly. Though he did not stop, he leant forward.

“Yes, darling?”

“Come. Fill me with _you_.” You pleaded, eyes hooded with desire and cheeks blushed.

The look on his face was something you intended to remember for the rest of your life. Pure, unbridled adoration. Love, to its greatest possible extent. Michael nodded, unable to get any words out of his disoriented self.

He closed his eyes for a second, and with one final thrust, he climaxed with a moan that had your mind reeling. As he slowly moved in and out of you, his hand picked up its pace on your core, sending you into a moaning fit. He refused to leave your body; he seemed to want you to wrap your walls around him.

And Michael got what he wished for: soon you were letting out one last scream, body trembling under his touch, and he groaned as you came around him.

You were both panting, and entirely unable to move. You simply sat in that position for a few seconds, riding out the high. Michael kissed you, a hand splaying itself on your stomach, and hummed into your lips in pure bliss.

When you finally managed to lie back down, he moved so you were wrapped inside his arms, protected by a warm embrace. He kissed the top of your head, and you rested you ear against his chest to listen to his heartbeat.

“I feel calmer now that we can both kill each other in our sleep.” You mumbled, sleepily.

Michael laughed, and you felt him shake his head. “Nut job.”

You inhaled deeply, and let it out with a long sigh; you were both already falling asleep when you opened your mouth one last time. “Correction: your _favourite_ nut job.”

And the day melted away into peaceful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> various storms & saints, florence and the machine.  
> i am beautiful and full of sin.  
> thoughts? send them my way! your feedback makes me so happy!
> 
> reach me on tumblr @tillthelastbelltolls  
> much love


	19. Fic Update: I'm very sorry.

Hey. Long time, no see, huh? I owe you all an explanation.

A few months ago, I found out my (now ex) boyfriend had been cheating on me with his ex, right after celebrating a year with me.

I won't bother explaining too much, but since then, it was hard coming to terms with that discovery. I was in another country, getting everything ready to go back home, to go back to him, and I ended up spending several nights crying on my floor. Almost immediately after that, my high school mentor, one of the best people in my life, who had done everything in his power to help me through being an exchange student, passed away suddenly due to heart failure. And, as if the universe had been thinking up a cosmic joke to strike upon me, one of my best friends, who had grown up with me, took her own life. 

I had a hard time. My fictional writing rapidly melted into furious rants that I carefully tucked away into a secret blog. I felt no motivation to write anything but my feelings for several difficult months. Everything culminated when ex boyfriend, during that period of time, spiked drinks with xanax at a high school party and sent a couple people, including himself, to the hospital. I was broken, and I found no way of mending myself for what seemed like an impossible amount of time.

I was so alone. I was desperate. Everything seemed so unfair; why me? What had I done to deserve all of that?

I still don't know if everything happens for a predetermined reason, but I sure as hell didn't let all of that suffering go to waste. I am a completely different person now. I'm rebuilding, rethinking, reteaching myself how to trust and love people in my life.

I hope you all can forgive me. I cannot write about Michael anymore; much of the things I wrote concerning him turned out to be projecting. I don't know how to go back to this fic without sinking back into that place that almost took my very own life.

I love you all dearly. Thank you for everything, the encouragement, the feedback. All of it. I appreciate it all so much. I decided to start writing fics again, but I won't update this one anymore. 

Much, much love. 


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